


Therapy

by TenSpencerRiedPlease



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies)
Genre: Additional Warnings In Author's Note, Alternate Universe - BDSM, Angst and Humor, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Dom Tony Stark, Dom/sub, Everyone Has Issues, F/F, Howard Stark's A+ Parenting, I Don't Even Know, It wasn't meant to be that way, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Non-Sexual Kink, Non-Sexual Submission, Sensual BDSM, Slow Burn, Sub Bucky Barnes, Tags May Change, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, but here we are, past abusive relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-13
Updated: 2016-09-13
Packaged: 2018-07-14 18:50:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 90,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7185845
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TenSpencerRiedPlease/pseuds/TenSpencerRiedPlease
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ever since presentation at puberty and Tony's distinct lack of natural sub instincts he’s been poked and prodded at by assholes wondering why he wasn’t quite right. The doctors didn’t much like it when he told them that he wasn’t wrong, their narrow ideas of biology were.</p><p>Bucky presented as a Dom but he just wasn’t meant to be the one giving orders. He tried faking it for years and failed fucking miserably at it.</p><p>**Previously named "I Don't Care" because I'm a savage who can't name things.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So the fic title could be a reference to Fall Out Boy, or it could be me genuinely not caring. We shall see. I was going to name this "The Truth Never Set Me Free (I Did it Myself)" but that's both wordy and too angsty. I realize now I Don't Care is no less angsty. *Shame cube*. I'm also not certain how often I will update this ('m not going to leave it for years though), but I do have another story on the go so that may mean this one gets pushed back a bit. 
> 
> Last thing! This is the first time I have embarked on a long BDSM fic, if I fuck something up please tell me. I do not want some abusive or incorrect shit floating around, we have enough of that (Y'all know what I'm talking about). I like to think I would not do that but if I do, tell me and I'll like... alter it. 
> 
> I lied. Warnings for this chapter include Howard's A+ parenting and past abusive relationships (Brock Rumlow and all that would entail). Also Obadiah but he's not that skeezy yet. 
> 
> Happy reading!

Tony didn’t think he needed to be here and not just because he didn’t think he needed therapy, let alone group therapy. No, he didn’t want to be stuffed into some sub support group because he wasn’t a sub, nothing against them. But that wasn’t him, he had zero inclination to submit to anyone, thanks, and he didn’t much appreciate people telling him that he should. What harm did it do to let him do his own thing? None was the answer but no, ever since presentation at puberty and his distinct lack of natural sub instincts he’s been poked and prodded at by assholes wondering why he wasn’t quite right. The doctors didn’t much like it when he told them that he wasn’t wrong, their narrow ideas of biology were.

Needless to say this was bound to be a horrible experience that ended in everyone hating him for being annoying an uncooperative just like it always did. How this was supposed to help he had no clue but his therapist insisted he try it at least once. If it wasn’t for the call to Pepper to make sure he went he wouldn’t have even bothered but apparently patient-doctor confidentiality was fine to ignore if your patient was uncooperative. And the guy wondered why Tony didn’t talk. Gee, it was a real fucking wonder. He throws himself into a chair that was as close to the fringe of the group as he could get when they were all sitting in a circle. Christ, he could hear them all singing kumbaya already.

The guy next to him shifts slightly, giving him an odd look and yeah, Tony too bud, no need to stare. But it’s the woman on his other side that says something, “you shouldn’t be here,” she says with a slight edge to her voice. He sighs and pulls a paper out of his pocket and hands it to her without even bothering to look at her. “This can’t be right,” she says after reading the results.

“I don’t much think so but hey, the tests all say I’m a sub. So uh, sorry about this,” he mumbles, taking his paper back. Everyone looks just a bit uncomfortable and yeah, throwing a Dom into a group of abused subs will do that to them. Granted it was entirely possible that another sub or a switch abused them but statistically speaking that wasn’t the most likely situation. He _told_ the therapist that but no, Tony didn’t know what he was talking about. It stood to reason that he knew his body and his urges best but life has informed him that if you don’t fit what everyone thinks you are you must be wrong. Whatever. When the therapy leady guy walks in he questions Tony’s presence too so Tony hands off his test results to him too.

“Are you sure this is right? Maybe they messed up the paperwork or something,” the guy says.

“Oh trust me, the results are right, scientists have been experimenting on me since puberty,” he says bluntly. The guy next to him flinches and Tony ignores that because he didn’t want to know what fucking sob story led to that reaction.

“I… that sounds horrible,” the guy says.

Tony shrugs, “ehh, sometimes I got good drugs.” And he spent a lot of time away from home, which was a fucking blessing. Then he was shipped off to boarding school, which he hated, and then his parents died- his father’s fault. Then he was stuck with a company and a bunch of other responsibilities he never wanted. He guess he’s made the best of it given the circumstances, Stark Industries was starting to take off like never before, doing better than it ever had under his father’s control. But according to Obi people trusted married business people better and Tony fucking refused to do any of that. Publicly no one knew what his orientation was and he was going to keep it that way, regardless of what Obi thought of that decision. Personally Tony thought the whole think was stupid considering most of the married guys he did business with cheated on their partners anyways. That fostered trust _how_ , exactly? It didn’t help that Obi didn’t know his orientation either and he seemed damn intent on finding out.

Therapist Guy, Sam, was a genuinely nice person so Tony felt a little bad for being largely uncooperative but he wasn’t playing this game. Also why should he feel bad for telling these subs they should have drop kicked their Doms out a window, they were absolute assholes, they _should_ be drop kicked. The guy beside him quietly snickers every time Tony makes a disgusted noise and makes a new violent suggestion. The one guy thought ripping off his exes eyebrows and sewing them to her ass was hilarious so clearly he was doing the world some good.

Eventually Sam sighs, “I’m legally obligated to tell you not to take revenge, especially if it’s violent,” he says, giving Tony a look.

“Oh, we’re going for non-violent? Fine. Stick shrimp in their curtain rods, glue all their small change together, put bugs in their shoes, buy a chicken and set it loose in their home, hide eggs somewhere in their car and _wait_ , change the Netflix password right as they get to the season finale of whatever they’re watching. I could go on but you all get the point, these people are a bunch of jackasses and I, for one, think petty revenge is necessary,” Tony tells them confidently. The guy beside him snorts, hand covering his mouth as he glances over at Tony almost shyly.

Tony gives the guy a once-over and grins back because why not, guy was hot. He was only human after all; why not give the eye-candy a little something to work with? If Sam didn’t derail his very important revenge discussion with some therapy shit he might have remembered to get that guy’s number. Picking up subs from his therapy group, not his finest moment but certainly not his worst. That probably had to do to the DUI he got a few years ago and Pepper’s yelling at him ensured he wasn’t to do that again. Eventually Sam releases them from their prison and he all but flees to the snacks. He had to listen to people’s horrifying sob stories for the last hour; he needed some cookies or something to make up for it.

Of course his plan to throw the cookie up and catch it in his mouth goes a bit awry and it ends up hitting his face and nearly falling to the floor before he hastily catches it but still. Semantics. “You’re a fun one,” someone says from behind him and he turns to find the guy who was sitting beside him. He was, mercifully, one of the people who didn’t share their sad and depressing story and for that Tony was grateful. He was also grateful that people didn’t mistake his brashness and jokes for insensitivity. Truthfully a lot of these people’s stories hit home and he didn’t like to think about home too often.

“So I’ve been told,” he says, grinning. Falling back into his normal patterns of flirting was easy, natural. It was never this part he had trouble with.

The guy raises an eyebrow, “by who, there’s no fucking way you’ve ever submitted to anyone, so unless you’ve been faking your orientation you’re probably pretty inexperienced,” he says, just a ghost of a smile gracing his features.

 _Oh_ , Tony liked this guy. “As it would have it I’ve done a little bit of everything, enough to leave people confused or they assume I’m a switch. Though the submission thing never really did it for me, is your first reaction supposed to be to do the opposite of what your Dom tells you to piss them off?” he asks, head tilted to the side. They both knew the answer to that, no, you were not supposed to want to do the opposite of what your Dom asked you. Apparently there was this warm, fuzzy feeling you’d get when you follow your Dom’s orders but Tony has never gotten that. And it wasn’t like the doctors didn’t try; Howard was dead set on having a proper son but no. His orientation refused to cooperate with the rest of him.

“No, not that I hear anyways. Bucky,” the guy says, smirking. He holds out his hand for Tony to shake and he does, somewhat surprised that he had a rather firm grip. It wasn’t that subs didn’t have firm grips, but typically they didn’t shake hands with people enough to develop the habit. That was left to their Doms. Tony half wished the sub thing had worked out just so he didn’t have to shake hands with so many skeezy business types but sadly that was not the case.

“Tony, in case you didn’t pick that up before,” he says. He’s known for being pretty vocal, which drove any Doms he attempted any scene with nuts because he had a natural inclination to do what he wanted very loudly. It drove Howard nuts for sure and no matter what punishment he tried it didn’t take, and Howard tried _everything_.

Funnily enough when his mother had asked nicely instead of trying to order him around he had no problem complying. All it took was some basic decency and respect and he found people rarely had an interest in that. It certainly wasn’t the case for most subs; it was deeply frowned upon to abuse subs because it subverted the very nature of a Dom/sub relationship. But if you knew where to look people didn’t care, Tony’s lived a whole life of that to know.

“Oh I did, pretty sure everyone knows who you are after telling Shelly to drop kick her ex out a window,” Bucky says, snickering.

He shrugs, “well if he had been a good Dom I wouldn’t have suggested it but no, he was a fucking piece of shit and anyone who treats their subs badly should be drop kicked out a window,” he says with confidence, curling his lip in disgust.

“I wish I had’ve met you a couple years ago, might’ve done me some good,” Bucky says.

“Nah, two years ago I was in jail. DUI. Pepper lost her shit on me, rightfully so, and I got my shit together,” sort of. But Bucky didn’t need to know about all his problems and shit, no one did. They were his problems to have, thanks, and if he felt like sharing he talked to Rhodey.

“Who’s Pepper? Your sub?” Bucky asks, probably sounding far smoother in his head than out loud.

“Hell no, I mean I love Pep but nah. Plus her Dom would kill me and I am _not_ in the business of pissing Natasha off. I fully believe that story she told me about killing a man with a pair of fake eyelashes, the woman is _terrifying_ ,” he says. They were great friends though; he tagged along on a lot of Pep’s dates for business purposes.

He appreciated how understanding Natasha was of Pepper’s being highly career driven, she had a past of Doms disliking that she was more loyal to her career than them. Tony understood that, really, but Pepper’s career was important to her and they knew that from the beginning so they had no right to bitch. Natasha though, she had her own career that took up a lot of time so she got Pepper. They worked wonderfully together. Tony had been half convinced Pepper wasn’t actually a sub until Nat showed up to prove him wrong. Natasha had been appreciative that Tony didn’t look down on her because she was his assistant, then threatened to castrate him if he ever stepped out of line. Not a woman he’d like to piss off, thanks.

Bucky snaps his fingers, “oh right, I remember reading about her in some article on you. I’ve seen your name around, assuming you’re last name is Stark. Which it might not be, oh god,” Bucky says, looking around for an exit.

“Relax, I am _that_ Tony. Ever seen any of those hilarious _Stark Naked_ puns in the tabloids. Those are my favorite because they’re amusing, and they piss my business partner off,” Tony chirps happily. Obi didn’t much like Tony’s habit of doing things that were bad for business, like stumbling home drunk after one night stands, but he could fuck off. Tony would damn well do whatever he wanted to.

“You really do have a habit of pissing people off for fun,” Bucky says and he shakes his head, “that’s bound to get you into trouble.”

“Ehh. Obi might not like my habit of sleeping around, but he has to admit that my inability to follow the rules is as good for business as it is bad. I mean Stark Industries went from a sort-of-known million-dollar company to a household name billion-dollar company all because I didn’t like the rules. Forbes basically worships me, as they should.” Obi should probably be more appreciative but he insisted on nit picking. Tony told him not to worry so much because he wasn’t paying the hospital bills when the man gave himself an ulcer.

“Tony,” someone calls and he turns, noticing the difference immediately.

“Shit,” he mumbles, “I’m so sorry, usually I have the whole powerful personality thing- you know what, it doesn’t matter. I should have been paying more attention, and I didn’t mean to like… draw you in, sorry,” he says again taking a step back just as Sam gets to him and Bucky. Doms sometimes had that effect on subs, accidentally drawing them in with nothing but words and a dominating presence and Tony should have been paying more attention before this poor guy got hooked. Bucky looks minorly dazed but otherwise okay, thankfully. He should have been paying more fucking attention, the last thing anyone here needed was some dickhead Dom playing games with them.

Besides, the last time something like this happened to him it resulted in Justin Hammer followed him around like a lost puppy under the guise that he hated Tony. Actually he still did that. And all he had done to him was tell him how to not blow everyone in the lab up in a really condescending tone. The guy must be into humiliation because there was no way an imprint could have happened otherwise. Or Hammer was defective, Tony was on board with that assumption too, mostly because they guy was obviously not right.

“Don’t look so upset, you clearly didn’t realize. Also whoever sent you here is incompetent at their job because you shouldn’t be in a sub support group. Here,” Sam says, handing Tony a card, “don’t look at me like that. Trust me, he’ll be more effective than whatever moron sent you here.” Tony sighs and takes the card, some Dr. Riley Jenkins. Huh.

“Well, can’t be worse than the last guy, or the like seventy people who’ve deemed me a lost cause. Thanks man,” he says and he flees the scene before anyone can say anything else.

*

“Natasha, you know I love you. And I love Pepper, but I’d prefer if you keep your love _off_ my desk, or at least the sexual love. Heartfelt ‘I love yous’ are fine,” he says, ignoring that Natasha’s skirt was currently pushed up around her hips and Pepper’s face was between her legs. The fact that he just accepted that this was a normal, everyday thing was probably a problem. “You know Pepper has a desk right?” he asks.

Natasha huffs at him, “with glass walls. Now get out,” she tells him, lifting one of her hands out of Pepper’s usually pristine hair to wave him off.

“I need the files first, calm down. I need Pepper in ten minutes so you’re going to have to wrap this up quick, and we both know you don’t give a damn about glass walls, Nat. I know that because you don’t seem to care when the walls are glass in my house. Have you seen that red file or are you too busy to notice?” he asks, enjoying Natasha’s irritated glare. Pepper pulls a file seemingly out of nowhere without even pausing in her efforts to get Natasha off. “You’re the best Pep,” he says and grins at Natasha, “you’re a lucky woman. Please stop having sex on my files.” He leaves the office then, leaving them in relative peace and hoping Natasha cleaned up her mess this time. Probably not, he suspected Natasha liked to annoy him as much as possible.

It occurs to him that this is Natasha’s weird way of marking Pepper as hers despite the freakish amount of time she spent with Tony but Pepper had a collar, wasn’t that enough? Granted he wasn’t all that uncomfortable with it, more like resigned to Natasha’s strange sub-marking ways so maybe that’s why she does this so much. It happened far too often for every incident to be accidental. Plus he guessed that Pep might be getting him back for all the times she’s walked in on things she probably didn’t want to see. Negotiated Torture Tony Time. He took his punishment with grace because last week Pepper walked in on some shit that would make _Obi_ blush.

“Tony, good, do you have those files?” Obi asks, sneaking up behind him.

“Yeah, yeah, I’ve got the files- oh, you aren’t going to want to go in there,” Tony says when Obi reaches for the door, jumping in front of it to save Pep’s reputation. Not that Natasha wouldn’t straighten out that wrinkle but she shouldn’t have to.

Obi hesitates but he relents, thankfully, because Tony has never been good at lying on the spot and he would have made up some outrageous story that probably wouldn’t even make sense. “Good, these people are important Tony, so I expect you to be on your best behavior,” Obi tells him, using his Dom voice.

He glares at the man, “I’ll do what I want,” he says in a tight tone and walks off, full well preparing to do just that. Obi did that somewhat frequently, tried to figure out his orientation via different praises, commands, and such. Tony didn’t respond to any of it, but sometimes he’d respond to Natasha when she did the same thing so it left Obi confused. He could stay confused because Tony’s orientation was none of his damn business.

Despite Obi’s warning the meeting goes great and once again Tony makes millions, because he was _that_ good. He wasn’t fond of the business aspect of things, he preferred to invent, but someone had to make sure Obi didn’t take over. He’d leave that to Pepper but she had admitted long ago she wasn’t fond of the man and Tony wasn’t going to put her in a position in which she was uncomfortable. He had the benefit of knowing Obi his whole life and even though he had a habit of pushing boundaries it was only to push Tony out of his comfort zone some. It wasn’t something Tony liked all the time, but sometimes he needed that extra push and he was happy that Obi was there to do it.

“Told ya I’d do what I wanted and it went _great_ ,” Tony tells Obi, grinning. Obi looks less than impressed because Tony hadn’t done what they had planned to do, but they got more out of the deal so it shouldn’t matter.

“Well I would have appreciated the heads up on the game change,” Obi says, “you drove a hard bargain.”

Tony shrugs, “I was winging it,” he says even though that was only half true. He had been over the contract a few times and he wanted more out of the deal, the company he was working with had more to lose by not signing than he did, and that gave him leverage. It had all gone well in the end anyways so Obi’s dramatic sigh was largely unnecessary.

“You can’t ‘wing it’ in business, Tony, we’ve been over this,” he says in a tired tone, predicting correctly that he has already lost the argument.

“I just did and I made us millions. Anyways Pep and I have a dinner date with Natasha to go over tomorrow’s shit,” he says, picking himself up. Pepper quickly follows with her head up but she remains quiet, very unlike her normal self. He really should ask what about Obi made her so unwilling to deal with the man as a whole considering it was kind of important to how he ran things. She was integral to his work and he didn’t want Obi scaring her off.

“I can practically read your mind, Tony, Obadiah is not going to scare me off. I am not that easily dissuaded,” Pepper tells him, “I simply dislike the man.”

“Why though? Not that you have to have a reason exactly, but you don’t normally avoid people you dislike like the plague,” Tony points out. Normally she stuck around to make a lot of passive aggressive comments and insulted them every chance she got. It was one of Natasha’s favorite things about her.

“He just makes my skin crawl,” Pepper says, wrinkling her nose delicately.

“Who makes your skin crawl?” Natasha asks, appearing out of thin air as usual with a touch of anger in her tone. She glares at Tony because they had a weird unspoken agreement that he was to take care of Pepper when she wasn’t around. More like Pepper took care of him and he sometimes made sure to ask if she was okay or not. Natasha didn’t seem to mind how it worked so long as Pepper was there in one piece when she got back from her business trips.

“Obadiah, and Tony was asking if I was alright,” Pepper says, likely trying to dissuade Natasha from skinning Tony alive before she decided it was necessary. Tony hadn’t exactly asked if she was alright, at least not in those words, but Natasha accepted it regardless.

“I’ll have to keep an eye on him,” Natasha says, pressing a hand to Pepper’s lower back. Pep relaxes a little bit and Tony is happy for it. She hated anything to do with Obadiah and unfortunately he was very involved in the business side of things while Tony usually had more to do with the inventing side of things. Sometimes it meant Pepper going to things in place of him though he tried to avoid it for Pepper’s sake. He might hate business meetings with a passion but he hated making Pepper uncomfortable more. Also Natasha would eat him alive if she thought he mistreated her sub.

*

Steve gently runs his fingers through his hair and Bucky sighs in relief. He hated doing this with anyone else; he never seemed to trust them enough to actually get any comfort out of it. But he trusted Steve, trusted that he wouldn’t take advantage. Steve didn’t mind doing this for him either, even if he didn’t quite understand Bucky’s situation. When Steve was young everyone assumed he’d die off before presentation but Steve had stuck around out of pure spite, Bucky was sure, and he ended up being a Dom. No one was surprised by that, no one who knew Stevie anyways. Everyone else was a little surprised but what the hell did they know? People seemed a lot less surprised when he hit that growth spurt before college, which was stupid but whatever.

And Bucky, he presented as a Dom too. Except that made no sense because anyone who knew him knew he followed Steve around making sure the scrawny little runt didn’t get his ass kicked _again_. People would have had to be blind to miss that Steve was always in charge, and Bucky had always been happy to follow whatever plan Steve made, even if he thought it was dumb. Like he said, someone had to make sure Steve didn’t accidentally _die_. When he was young that was actually a very real possibility. But Bucky just wasn’t meant to be the one giving orders, though biology dictated otherwise. He wanted to punch biology in the face.

He tried faking it for years and failed fucking miserably at it. By the time he hit his early twenties he had taken to lying to people and telling them he was a switch with submissive tendencies. It wasn’t an outright lie, he told himself, even though it was. He should have just been honest with himself and everyone else- damn what biology says, he’s a sub. It wasn’t until Brock that he admitted that, sort of. He knew Brock had a temper, everyone warned him, but he had foolishly assumed that Brock wouldn’t hurt him. It didn’t help that he figured out Bucky’s secret pretty damn quickly and used it as leverage. Bucky should have just _told_ someone, it would have made his life easier in the long run but no, he had been ashamed and confused and he paid dearly for that.

Brock did a good job at playing the good guy too, he kept Bucky’s secret, he _indulged_ in Bucky’s delusions, clearly he was a fucking saint or something. In the end it was Phil who figured it out. Steve and Clint had their suspicions but Phil must have had personal experience. It took him awhile but he managed to wheedle the truth out of Bucky, which resulted in Steve flipping shit. However, to Bucky’s intense surprise, it was _Phil_ who nearly killed Rumlow. Turns out the man had some skills he had kept from Clint and the plucky sub decided to unleash some pent up fury on Brock, sending him to the emergency room after Clint finally managed to pull Phil off of him.

Everyone had taken the sub thing pretty well, but in the light of Bucky’s relationship and Phil nearly killing Brock it was hardly the most interesting thing that happened that week. He had moved back in with Steve, who had figured out that his relationship with Peggy just wasn’t going to work out no matter how much they loved each other. Thankfully that left free space for Bucky and he hadn’t looked back. That was three years ago and after much poking and prodding Phil finally managed to convince him to go see a therapist for his issues. He had relented because he couldn’t keep Steve from dating forever. Right now he felt obligated to take care of Bucky and Bucky didn’t want that, didn’t want to disrupt Steve’s life just because he was so fucked up.

That was how he ended up in Riley’s office, which was how he ended up in Sam’s support group. And oddly enough that was how he had met someone like him, kind of. And Tony was so _open_ about it, so blasé. Clearly he wasn’t that way in the media but Bucky got the impression that that wasn’t because he was ashamed, he was certain that Tony just liked to keep people guessing. Whenever Tony’s orientation got out, and it _would_ get out, he got the impression that Tony would roll his eyes, correct the interviewers, and then move on with a flourish that only he could manage. Bucky liked him, was somewhat comfortable around him too and that was rare. And even better, when Tony realized he was accidentally coming on too strong he backed the hell off.

Actually he had looked vaguely sick and ashamed, and he hadn’t made excuses for it either. He had gone to but he didn’t and Bucky was curious about that. Curious about what made Tony Stark tick. He was outspoken, but the only thing he actually said about himself after the beginning of the meeting was to Bucky, otherwise he easily distracted everyone from his own issues swiftly and effectively. Bucky hadn’t shared much of anything at all, not wanting to be judged for it, so he supposed he shouldn’t judge.

Maybe Tony didn’t want to be judged either. That didn’t sound right considering the man was so… _forward_. It’s been a long time since Bucky has met anyone that blunt, not since Clint. The first thing Clint had done upon meeting Bucky was compliment his ass and condemn his drink. Frappuccinos were fucking good though so Clint could eat his perfect ass. Phil had been hilariously scandalized by the whole thing.

“You’re thinking too hard,” Steve tells him, pausing in his petting Bucky’s hair. Bucky makes a noise of protest and Steve continues running his fingers through Bucky’s long strands.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, “just thinking about that group thing and that time Clint told me I was the reason small children were starving to death because I drink frappuccinos.”

“That’s a bit disjointed,” Steve comments, pausing briefly again but he resumes before Bucky can protest.

“A guy at group was pretty blunt, reminded me of Clint,” Bucky says. Technically they weren’t supposed to talk about group, which felt very Fight Club to him, but he figured as long as no names or details were mentioned it was fine. That meant he rarely said anything at all but it wasn’t like anyone else needed to know anything anyways. But Tony was _hilarious_. He had to tell someone. “He told one of the people to rip his exes eyebrows off and sew them to her ass,” he says, snickering.

Steve laughs, “okay, that’s actually pretty funny.” Duh, Bucky wouldn’t have said it otherwise.

“He told someone else too drop kick their Dom out a window, super tempted to take that advice.” He couldn’t help but imagining Brock’s stupid face as Bucky sent him flying so he had rather liked that suggestion.

“I’ll help,” Steve offers and Bucky appreciated that, really. “So I take it group went well?” he asks tentatively. Bucky didn’t really talk about his therapy, there was still a lot Steve didn’t know and he didn’t feel like sharing so he kept things to himself and Riley. It stood to reason that if Bucky was willing to talk about what happened it went alright though Steve knew from experience to tread lightly.

“Yeah it went okay,” he says vaguely. He wants to tell Steve that Tony was like him, sort of, but that would breach that whole confidentiality thing so he keeps quiet. He sort of wanted to see Tony again if for no other reason to ask questions about that, like how he knew, how he dealt with things. His public life didn’t really shed any light on that because what reporters have gotten ahold of was a jumble of mixed signals and confusion. Granted Bucky didn’t pay that much attention to the media on any given day so maybe he was wrong. He just happened to catch an article about Tony by chance that had a picture of him, which was how he recognized him in group. It had taken a while to place him but Bucky managed and thankfully Tony didn’t seem put off by it. Bucky imagined he’d be pretty uncomfortable with fame but Tony seemed pretty at east with it. Yet another thing Bucky sort of wanted to know about.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Honestly what the hell was I thinking with this fic name? I'd rename it but that would be confusing so I guess my Bad Sleepy Decisions will have to be lived out forever.

Tony turns to Natasha and gestures to the baby that was staring at them from its stroller, “straight up, that infant has serial killer eyes,” he says. He doesn’t expect the laugh to come from _behind_ him and when he turns he finds that sub from group of all people. “Oh hey… Binky?” he guesses. That did not sound right.

Thankfully the sub doesn’t seem too put off by Tony’s idiocy. “Bucky,” the sub reminds him, still laughing at that infant.

“Oh thank god, I was trying to remember why the fuck I’d talk to a guy named after an Arthur character. Seriously man, Binky is not a name you want to call out in bed,” Tony says, realizing somewhat belatedly to reign it in, damnit, he already had this information. And he had no clue what Bucky has been through, he didn’t want to accidentally hit any hot buttons because they had a compatible personalities and he didn’t think shit through like a decent god damn person.

“And _Bucky_ is better?” Natasha asks, frowning at him.

“Better than _Binky_ ,” Tony says, “seriously, imagine saying that when you come. _Binky_. That’s just not right.” Bucky is near doubled over laughing and Tony has no idea if he needed to dial things back more or not because he thought he was hilarious too. Natasha looked unimpressed but she hated fun and that was not Tony’s fault.

“I maintain that Bucky is not an improvement,” Natasha tells him crossing her arms.

“Technically it’s short for Buchanan so,” Bucky shrugs.

“Oh my god, did your mother hate you? _Buchanan_? God, that’s definitely worse than calling out Binky in bed. _Buchanan_. Your parents wanted to ensure you never had a sex life, assuming you’re interested in one of those. I mean if not clearly that’s fine, and you parents did you a favor, but if you are you sorry soul. _Buchanan_?” And he though Anthony Edward was bad, he had nothing on this poor sap.

“Isn’t Beau short for Buchanan?” Natasha asks, frowning, “I see no reason why you went with the far less sexy _Bucky_.”

“Childhood nickname,” Bucky says, shrugging.

“Very sexy,” Natasha deadpans.

“Right, like _Natasha_ is a sexy name,” Tony retorts, “it isn’t, by the by.”

“Sexier than Bucky,” Natasha counters.

“Well Tony’s the sexiest so I win. And seriously, that fucking baby hasn’t blinked, it’s either fake or the product of the devil,” he says, eyeing said infant suspiciously.

“All children are the product of the devil, Pepper agrees,” Natasha says. Yeah, that had been the selling point for Pepper. Sure, Natasha was a great Domme, she was understanding of Pepper’s career, and she didn’t hog the blankets, but did she want _kids_? She had been rather excited that Natasha not only hated kids but she was incapable of having them. Pepper wasn’t much the mothering type though one of Tony’s favorite things was to watch Pepper react to someone handing her a child. Usually she panicked and handed it off to the nearest person, generally Tony.

“They aren’t _that_ bad,” Tony says, “except that one, it’s clearly trying to snatch our mortal souls straight out of our bodies.” Bucky starts laughing again and Natasha finally cracks and smiles. Ha, Tony knew he was hilarious and Natasha just refused to give in to his comedic genius.

“I hope that baby grows into its eyes,” Bucky says, which leads to him thinking of an adult with eyes that wide and soul sucking. The result is essentially the Power Puff Girls and that was horrifying, actually.

“I hope so too because eyes that big on an adult would be terrifying. The soul sucking thing on adults is also pretty frightening, I know, I spend a lot of time with business types. God help me if I have to sit through one more meeting with some asshole trying to bore a hole through my head with his eyes. Can’t _ask_ for what you want instead of trying to glare me into submission?” Tony laments, rolling his eyes. Obi told him he was too blunt for his own good, that business needed to be shady and underhanded but Tony thought an unwillingness to show your cards meant you didn’t play the game well enough. It didn’t seem to matter that he’d lay everything out all at once; he almost always got what he wanted. Why? Because he was damn good at his job.

“I think they think that prolonged eye contact will get you to give in,” Natasha says, “but they underestimate how stubborn you are.”

“Prolonged eye contact pisses me off, which really only motivates me to fuck them over,” Tony says. He’s done it a few times just to be an asshole too. Everyone who worked for the companies he ate were well taken care of, of course, and given positions in SI, but the CEO’s were screwed. Obi thought that was a ruthless streak but really Tony didn’t like most of the people he got stuck working or partnering with and it was easier to just rid himself of them while keeping all the stuff he wanted to begin with. It was hardly ruthless, except to the guy that got screwed over.

“You screw people over because they look at you too long? I don’t know whether I should love or hate you for that,” Bucky says, looking amused so Tony was guessing love. And what wasn’t to love? He was great.

“Definitely love,” Tony tells him, giving him a winning smile.

“Yeah, but all the people that work for them-”

“Oh they have jobs, I’m not going to screw over a bunch of people because their CEO is a dick head, that’s terrible. I’m an asshole, not a monster,” Tony says, offended. Natasha snickers at him, probably having a half a dozen disagreements with that statement. But she thought not wetting your toothbrush before you used it made you a monster so clearly her thoughts and perceptions were skewed.

“Guess I’ll go with love then,” Bucky says, smiling just a bit.

“Love what?” some guy asks, walking up to them looking harassed and… heavily muscled. Tony was tempted to reverse engineer that guy’s work out routine just to see if that physique was even possible to achieve or if this guy was actually not human.

“Love me, because I’m adorable,” Tony says cockily. Big Blonde does not look convinced of this but he also probably wasn’t even a real boy so what did he know?

“In your own delusions, maybe,” Natasha quips.

“Your girlfriend thinks I’m adorable,” Tony counters.

“My girlfriend is on your payroll,” Natasha shoots back.

“I’ve known Pep since before she was my assistant, thanks, so your argument is irrelevant,” Tony says, nose in the air.  

Big Blonde gives Bucky a dubious look, “seriously?” he asks.

“What? I think he’s funny, in his own way,” Bucky says and Tony is _wounded_ , really. He was funny in everyone’s way, a real man of the people thank Bucky very much.

Blondie makes a face, “it’s been established that you have bad taste in men,” he says and oh, that was _not_ the right thing to say. Bucky’s face goes stormy before he tells Steve to fuck off with enough vitriol that Natasha of all people recoils before he leaves the building.

“Yikesville, bud,” Tony says, eyeing the guy with the same dubious expression he had received only seconds before. Assuming Bucky’s story followed everyone else’s at that group that was a pretty fucking insensitive thing to say to an abuse survivor. When he turns back around that fucking baby was still giving him a dead eyed stare, but everyone else happened to be looking too.

*

“You’re a disgusting creature,” he tells Natasha.

“Coming from you that’s rich,” she says, rolling her eyes at him and purposefully taking a long drink of her frappuccino. What a fucking disgrace to coffee as a whole, it wasn’t even caffeine anymore, it was a sugary lie!

“Leave Natasha’s frappuccinos alone, Tony,” Pepper tells him, dropping into her seat next to Natasha.

“Yeah, leave my frappuccinos alone, Tony,” Natasha says, sticking her tongue out at him, “also Tony totally met himself a cute sub and he didn’t tell us,” Natasha tells Pepper, who looks more offended than she had a right to be. Natasha drops a hand to Pepper's thigh when he settles in her seat, another one of those methods she used to subtly remind everyone that Pepper was hers, but mostly to remind Tony of that.

“Tell me everything,” Pepper says, leaning forward enthusiastically. Natasha settles in to let her sub do the work for her, knowing that Pepper was more likely to wheedle answers out of Tony than she was.

“There’s nothing to tell, we’ve met twice, it’s hardly a love story,” Tony says. The fact that Bucky happened to be at the same Starbucks he frequented was nothing more than a coincidence. He’d probably never see the guy again.

“Liar,” Natasha accuses, “they totally have a connection,” she says, grinning at Pepper.

“We do not, oh my god. He thinks I’m funny, everyone with taste thinks I’m funny,” Tony says, pulling out his phone so he could answer work emails and ignore this.

“Bad taste, maybe,” Pepper quips, “now get your head out of that phone, I know you have no interest in those emails so stop pretending you aren’t paying attention. Come on, at least give me a gender or something,” she says when Tony doesn’t respond. Some idiot Board member was freaking out over something stupid again so Tony sent an irritated email to inform him that everything was under control, he knew what he was doing.

Why these people even questioned him anymore he had no clue, he’s proven himself more than competent at his job. He didn’t expect blind obedience but some basic respect would be lovely. They all liked Obadiah better because he was the ‘more calculated’ risk taker. He wasn’t, Tony was just acting on patterns no one else noticed and he wasn’t going to be held back because he was smarter than everyone else in the room.

“Male,” Natasha says, selling Tony out because she is an uncivilized heathen.

Pepper makes a pleased noise, “oh, Obadiah’s going to love that about as much as the media. There goes your ladies man image,” Pepper says, snickering.

Natasha snorts, “ladies man my ass, just because he’s managed to pick up a few women from public spaces doesn’t mean he’s a ladies man. _I’m_ the ladies man. Woman. Whatever, point is I know how please a woman, Tony’s just a cheap appetizer,” Natasha says haughtily.

“Please, I’m fillet mignon, and you are overdone steak at a redneck’s barbeque. And there is no relationship for anyone to love or hate,” Tony says. Bucky was just a guy he’s run into a few times and one of them was at a support group for abuse survivors, that was the opposite of sexy. And the second meeting resulted in him telling his friend to fuck off in a pretty nasty tone. That hardly fostered human connections or relationships, Natasha was delusional.

“Yet,” Natasha says in an ominous tone. Tony sighs and accepts that Natasha has officially become interested in his love life.

*

Bucky ignores Steve for the rest of the day because he was pissed off about that comment, damnit. It was rude and uncalled for and it was hurtful, even if Steve hadn’t necessarily intended it to be that way. The experience did, however, give him the push he needed to finally get himself out of his habit of relying on Steve to act as his Dom and seek out some professional help or something. The problem with that was that he didn’t trust anyone not to hurt him, even if it made no sense to think that they would. It was hard to relax with an inability to trust, to let go. That was why he had relied on Steve for so long but he really did need to move away from that, to heal and move forward.

He’d tell Steve that at a later, when he wasn’t so pissed off at him, but for now he was more than content to let Steve stew in his own insensitivity. What he really wants to do is curl up in his Dom’s lap and be pet but he has no Dom aside from Steve and Bucky wasn’t about to go there. So instead he sits around and restlessly fidgets until he finally has enough and sneaks out the window of his bedroom, down the fire escape. There was a small coffee shop that was a little out of his way but it had great hot chocolate and a nice atmosphere that helped calm him down. Plus it was open all night so he didn’t have to go home right away if he didn’t want to.

The fact that the staff knew him by name was probably an indication he spent too much time there but that was something he’d worry about later. Right now all he wanted was some peace and quiet and space to think and relax. The hot chocolate at least helped his anxiety some, and watching the people mingle and wander by outside also had a calming effect. He had probably been sitting there for an hour when someone else walks in. Bucky doesn’t pay much attention until he hears the person speak and recognizes the voice. A quick glance over confirms that Tony was the one who just walked in and wasn’t that some kind of coincidence?

Fate wasn’t a concept that he had much faith in so he was tempted to think Tony was stalking him, seriously, there were way too many coincidences here, but the staff seemed to know who he was too. He could hardly assume he was being stalked when the barista asked about Pepper and her Dom by name, and Tony responded with some sort of inside joke. Clearly he also frequented here, which made Bucky wonder how they hadn’t come in contact before. Or maybe they had and neither one of them noticed. That seemed doubtful with how much attention Tony seemed to draw by just existing but weirder things have happened. Once Clint brought home a parrot that whispered weird shit in the middle of the night, Phil made him get rid of it.

Instead of over focusing on what was more than likely a coincidence Bucky turns away and goes back to looking out the window and procrastinating on going home. Steve was sure to apologize and probably had a million and one things planned to make it up to him but the thought of having to sit through Steve’s plans was exhausting. He had no interesting in pacifying Steve because he did something wrong so he remained where he was, firmly planted in his seat.

“Bucky?” Tony asks, Bucky recognizes his voice and he turns to find Tony grinning at him. “Hey, fancy seeing you here. Seriously, that’s weird. Mind if I sit?” he asks, gesturing to the free seat across from Bucky. He pauses, waiting for Tony to just sit but he doesn’t and that throws Bucky for a moment. He was used to people asking that and then just ignoring that he hadn’t given an answer to do whatever it was they wanted.

Tony opens his mouth to say something but Bucky interrupts, “yeah, that’d be okay,” he says, gesturing loosely to the empty seat. Only then does Tony move and Bucky’s surprised by how reassured he was by that. “Thanks for actually waiting for an answer instead of just doing whatever,” he says.

He gets an odd look at that and thankfully Tony decides to elaborate, “I think maybe you should examine why you felt the need to thank someone for waiting for your consent. I mean assuming you story follows everyone else’s at that group it seems pretty irresponsible to inadvertently tell you that your consent doesn’t matter by not actually waiting for your answer to my question,” Tony says.

And… that was surprisingly insightful, actually. “You’ve been in therapy too long,” Bucky jokes because that was easier than actually dealing with that analysis. Mostly because Tony made a point and pretty much everyone in his life sort of ignored that kind of thing. It wasn’t to be malicious either, but asking to come into his room followed by just walking in makes the question pointless. It was an invasion of personal space regardless of the intention. Huh.

Tony wrinkles his nose, “ugh, I have been. I don’t even know where that came from because my doctor _sucks_. I’m pretty sure a dog would do a better job than that guy,” he says.

“Well dogs are cute and they lick your tears,” Bucky says, mentally kicking himself for the embarrassing ending to that statement. Thankfully Tony laughs instead of deeming him some fort of freak and running as far as he could away.

“You aren’t wrong, I guess. But I’m more of a cat person,” he admits, shrugging.

Bucky gasps, “I trusted you!” he says dramatically. “And it turns out that you’re a _cat_ person?” He didn’t actually mind cats but he’s had one too many try and sleep on his face to truly enjoy them.

Tony looks hilariously affronted by this, “I trusted you only to find out you’re a _dog_ person! We’re clearly not to be,” he says dramatically. He seems to consider something after he says that but he keeps it to himself and Bucky forces himself not to dwell on it. It was probably nothing anyways.

“Actually I’m more of a rodent person, I like rats,” he admits somewhat reluctantly because people didn’t like rats, they thought they were gross when they were actually very clean animals. Tony considers thing for a moment and laughs, shaking his head.

“Rodents. Rats are cute though, I wanted one for like _ever_ when I was a kid but my dad was an asshole and by the time I got older I didn’t have time for any kind of pet. The closest I’ve got is Pepper and I’m pretty sure she’d argue that _I’m_ the pet,” he says, snickering.

“Pretty sure you’d make a terrible pet,” Bucky says, amused. He couldn’t imagine Tony being demure enough to be anyone's pet, hell; he wouldn’t even make a good brat. Bucky got the feeling that whatever Doms Tony might have dealt with in life were quickly driven up the wall by the man and he wondered how that fucked him up. Everyone had something and Tony already mentioned being experimented on by scientists in group. That couldn’t have been pleasant regardless of how blasé Tony was about it.

“I would absolutely make a terrible pet. I guess if people knew about the biological sub thing though there would be at least one person who would take that as a challenge. You know, the creepy guys who run ‘how to pick up subs’ shows during the night that basically read as serial killer manuals. I’m sure you know the type,” Tony says and yeah, Bucky does.

“Unfortunately,” he says, lip curling in disgust.

“Aww, you’ve been hit on by one, haven’t you?” Tony asks, looking sympathetic.

“I have. He’s dead now,” Bucky says, temporarily forgetting that he didn’t know Tony well enough to make that joke. Bucky didn’t kill him but it was fun leaving the subtle implication that he had. Phil had been the first one to make the joke and now it was like a friend meme. They’d be with a group of new people and someone would inevitably bring up That One Creep That Hit On Bucky, and then say that he was now dead. The new people would laugh for a moment before realizing that no one else was laughing and then they’d all look at each other wondering if that meant what they thought that meant. It was a very useful tactic Bucky had learned to use when someone from whatever new group decided to set their sights on him when he wanted nothing to do with them.

No one was wiling to date the dude that maybe killed a man. But Tony throws back his head and laughs, “oh my _god_ , that’s awesome,” he says, cackling. If there was some sudden realization that Bucky maybe wasn’t joking it didn’t show. Normally Bucky might be worried about that but Tony had already proven that he cared about Bucky’s consent more than Steve and Steve was very intent on not harming Bucky so Tony must not be that bad.

Maybe he had a sense of humor that was as morbid as Phil’s. Even Clint was confused by Phil’s sense of humor sometimes and Clint basically lived on jokes. Personally Bucky liked Phil’s sense of humor because he found it to be a refreshing break from the emotionally taxing way people treated tragedy. Sometimes he just wanted to make a bad joke and move on instead of wallowing in his own suffering.

“So out of curiosity did you kill him or did he just die? I mean I won’t judge either way because me too buddy; I’ve had to deal with some _weird_ shit. This one guy, right, he decides it’s a good idea to tweet me his random fantasies about laying eggs in my ass. _Eggs_ , Bucky, in my _ass_. And you know what, if that’s what you want to do, that’s great, but leave me and my ass out of it,” Tony says, throwing his hands up.

For a moment he doesn’t know how to respond to that but he ends up settling for laughing because _seriously_? “Oh god that’s so much worse than my creep,” he says, “that’s not funny but it’s so funny.”

“Ahh, no big deal, the point was to make you laugh. That’s a legit story though and I mean this guy didn’t even _ask_ if this was a thing I might be interested in. I mean like if I was sweet, good to go, but I think it goes without saying that laying eggs in someone’s ass without their consent is a gross violation of personal autonomy. So that guy got blocked from like… the internet,” Tony says, rolling his eyes dramatically.

That would have been funny enough on it’s own, and telling in regards to the consent bit. The fact that the barista was halfway to their table with coffee when she heard that and reacted by promptly turning on her heel and walking away made it ten times funnier. “Someone walked up behind me as I said that, didn’t they?” Tony asks.

Bucky nods and Tony sighs, accepting his fate as That Weird Egg Guy. “Any other weird and wonderful stories?” he asks when he calms down a little.

“Tons, I’m a pretty adventurous guy and I have a habit of getting into things I really should leave alone. But this one time I was at a Starbucks, and I was just doing was my civic duty of not murdering the shit out of everyone before my morning coffee when this guy comes up. I was so fucking tired I thought he was a tree until he spoke and after the shit that came out of his mouth I wished I had’ve continued in blissful ignorance. So this guy shows up and he’s like ‘hey, I’m gunna take you home and knock you up’. That’s what he starts with, Bucky, getting me fucking _pregnant_. And impregnation kink is fine, but you don’t walk up to a guy before noon and whip that shit out without even _asking_. Honestly, do I even get a _say_ in whether or not I would like to be prego? Because even if I was a uterus wielder I would not want a fucking horror movie to happen inside me. Anyways I walked away and twenty minutes later that guy walked into a job interview with none other than _me_. He turned around and left, not even a _word_ ,” Tony says.

He had a knack for telling stories, Bucky thought, but he had previous experience to tell him that Tony might be dramatic but he probably wasn’t lying. Also Bucky has had that happen too, but it was a woman who walked up and told him to knock her up which, no? Steve had been rightly horrified with such behavior. “Did that happen pre or post business explosion?” he asks, curious to see if fame was a connection.

“This sort of thing has always happened. I mean just hang out in a Wal-Mart long enough and some creep is bound to come up and say something bizarre to you. One guy predicted my death and, according to him, I was supposed to die via meteorite to the head. Clearly he has been playing too much Sims. But fame hasn’t helped the situation much. Some random woman with one eye and a single chunk of pink hair invited me to a feather party once and I had a great time. Feathers are surprisingly nice; I would not have known that without the pink haired pirate lady. What about you, any strange tales from the kinky deep?” he asks, leaning forward in genuine interest.

Bucky shrugs, “not like that. I mean except that one time my friends and I all decided to go to one of those vampire things but we decided it wasn’t for us,” he says.

“You talk about that like it’s a regular, every day experience,” Tony says, eyebrow raised.

“Actually in my neighborhood vampire kink is pretty popular, and in college I lived with a bunch of ponies. Minus the hoof clopping at weird times in the night it was an agreeable arrangement,” Bucky says. That, and the neighing, but Bucky’s morning habits consisted of him hissing at everything that moved so he figured he was in no place to judge. At least they did their fucking dishes, half the roommates he and Steve have had over the years seemed to assume that because they cleaned up after themselves they would clean up after everyone. It resulted in Bucky sticking all of one of their roommate’s dishes in their bed to fester until they were cleaned. That was not a good year.

“See, in mine everyone has a weird obsession with bondage. I mean it’s alright but people get _zealous_ about it. Pepper has a high proportion of puppies in her building, and according to Rhodey people _really_ need to stop joining the military for the uniform.” Bucky laughs because he knew like six people in college who went into the military for that reason so it was amusing to find out that people knew about it. Most of them worked desk jobs, which was for the best really, and they still got their uniforms. “You know at least one person in it for the uniform, don’t you?” Tony asks.

“A few, actually,” Bucky tells him.

“I’d like to agree with Rhodey but honestly, same. Have you _seen_ the uniforms? Hot stuff,” Tony says, grinning.

Bucky smiles, lips turning up just a bit, “I’m more suit guy, not that I know anyone who can afford my tastes but hey. A guy can look.” Imagine his surprise when he met Phil Coulson, the guy that basically lived in suits. That had been a very uncomfortable two weeks before he got used to Phil being everywhere. Now it was an inside joke that Phil Coulson was never out of the suits, and they all knew it was because Clint secretly had a suit kink. He didn’t, Phil just liked looking dapper and didn’t seem to mind kneeling in the suits. Bucky would think that was uncomfortable but Phil never complained about it.

“Lucky you. Business ruined my love of suits, now I associate them with sweaty, snot-nosed Board members who need to learn what fucking Kleenexes are. But hey, to each their own,” he says, shrugging a bit. They continue talking and Bucky decides that he likes Tony quite a bit. Sure, he was a bit melodramatic, but he was also passionate and animated and honest, almost brutally so. When he says something Tony tells him he has no need for social propriety because it didn’t get anyone anywhere but confused, which generally left people thinking he was an asshole. Though he also out and out stated that he was also an asshole, so people weren’t wrong in their defense.

It was refreshing, talking to someone who said exactly what they meant. Generally that kind of negotiation and openness was left only to figuring out relationship boundaries with possible partners, whatever the connection may be. It irritated Bucky because social cues elsewhere were sort of missed or misinterpreted instead of properly fleshed out and discussed like they would be in any other context. Tony agrees, which was why he resolved to just say whatever it was he was thinking.

“Alright, so I mean this might be a bit weird, and feel free to say no, but do you want to like… go on an actual date? Because I genuinely like your company, you’re funny, your sass is strong, and you have majestic hair. Like I said, feel free to say no if that isn’t what you’re looking for but-” Bucky cuts him off.

“Yeah, sounds good,” he says before he can talk himself out of it. He was at least mostly comfortable in Tony’s presence, and he already knew Bucky was probably fucked up so that took a whole lot of pressure off. Plus Tony was in that group for a reason, he probably had his own issues and it was easier to put trust in someone who has also suffered because they might understand. And he _asked_ before he sat down, and he actually waited for Bucky’s answer, and expressly told Bucky that he could say no. Those things were important to Bucky and he thought it would be worthwhile to at least check it out so he said yes before he could overthink it and screw himself over like he usually did. Riley would be proud.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god, ok, so I wrote the latter half of this really sleep deprived so if it seems... like a fucking disaster than I am deeply sorry. But I wanted to update this sucker so.

Tony glares that the blonde haired blue eyed guy in front of him, not much willing to say much of anything. Eventually Riley sighs, “you must have come here for a reason,” he says in an attempt to prompt Tony into talking.

“Yeah, because I’ve been told I need therapy and I’d sooner see _Freud_ for my mental health than the last guy I was stuck with,” he mumbles, rolling his eyes. This was all for Pepper’s benefit anyways, she was the one who convinced him to at least try. He hadn’t been fond of the idea but he had to admit that he did have issues in abundance, even if he wasn’t willing to talk about them.

“Well, Freud did have some interesting theories of the mind…” Riley says, looking somewhat pained.

“He was a sex obsessed coke head, he was the one who needed a shrink, not the one who should be making shit up. Still better than the last guy though.” Tony had been _nice_ , even, throwing the guy a bone with the whole technically-a-sub-but-not-really, which the asshole took to be the reason for every mental health problem Tony has. Which no, fuck you.

Riley nods, “alright. What was the problem with your last therapist?” he asks. Tony considers his situation, considers what he could do here.

In the end he decides to go with the truth because that would best tell him if this guy was even worth his time and money. He might be filthy rich but that didn’t mean he was going to piss his money away on some shit therapist, thanks. He had better things to waste money on, like silk sheets, flavored lube, and pretty sunglasses. “Biologically speaking I’m a sub, but I am _so_ not a sub. Never have been but this guy thought that that was the reason I’m so fucked up and believe me, I’m the first to admit that I have more problems than a math test but that isn’t why. That’s literally the only think in my life that’s ever been right in my opinion, and-”

“Tony,” Riley says, effectively cutting him off, “you don’t need to explain yourself to me. Biology clearly got it wrong here, that’s okay. And I’m extremely doubtful that that is causing any of your problems, though if you don’t engage your dominant side enough that certainly could be causing you problems,” Riley says.

For a moment Tony didn’t know what to do with that because he’s used to explaining why he felt the way he did to people. Even Rhodey and Pepper had given him odd looks when he finally explained his orientation. That was at least half the reason he made sure to confuse people as much as possible. It was easier to deal with them questioning something they didn’t know about than it was to listen to them question and subsequently dismiss something they didn’t understand.

“You _do_ engage your dominant side, right?” Riley asks, looking somewhat worried about that.

“Yeah, sometimes I guess,” he says. More when he was younger, but these days he sort of avoided the situation as a whole because all it got was a bunch of unwanted headlines that lead to unwanted attention.

Riley sighs, “well that’s almost certainly causing you distress though from the looks of things you must be good at ignoring it. I would highly recommend you find an outlet to those instincts, and as soon as possible.” Tony nods somewhat dumbly, not only surprised that Riley had actually _listened_ to him when he said he wasn’t a sub, but told him inadvertently that ignoring his natural Dom instincts wasn’t healthy. Maybe this therapy thing wouldn’t go as horribly as he thought it might.

*

Bucky liked his job even if it was annoying at times to get so much attention. Bartending was fun most of the time, he liked the atmosphere, and drunk people tipped well. Steve hated that this was the way he chose to make money but he didn’t really care what Steve thought, not on this anyways. Now, if he wanted a good argument as to why church and state should be separated to set some idiot on Facebook right, _then_ he’d ask for Steve’s opinion. He was bound to get a three-hour ear full but he’d have a solid argument and Steve’s rants were always amusing to watch.

This also happened to be one of the few places that his arm didn’t feel odd and out of place, here he didn’t feel like people stared too much. He could probably thank Brock for that insecurity because he hadn’t cared about it before, and he wasn’t hypersensitive to people looking. That wasn’t the case now so he took to covering his arm the best he could, which sucked in the summer. Brock was an asshole and Bucky personally thought that hell was a place that was too nice for the likes of him. It was comforting to have at least one place where he was comfortable with his body, and the free drinks were great.

So were his coworkers, though Wade was his favorite. “Think if I stole all the vodka Weasel would kick my ass?” he asks, eying the new shipment.

“I’m pretty sure Weasel would kick your ass if you asked nicely, no stealing necessary,” he jokes and Wade snorts.

“Weasel wishes he could kick this ass, seriously though, think he’d notice a missing bottle or two?” Wade asks. Probably not, Weasel would probably assume he drank them but he wasn’t going to encourage Wade, he had a weird sense of morality and he’d probably actually take off with the alcohol. Vanessa would encourage him too, because she had the same weird sense of morality and Peter was just sort of lost on how to deal with that, the poor thing. They made a great triad though and they were all adorably loving. Weasel gagged every time he saw the three together they were that disgustingly cute.

“Don’t do it Wade, we’ll have to blame the new guy and we should be nice to the new guy,” Bucky says. Poor bastard was way out of his depth but he was trying, even if he was largely failing.

“I _guess_ ,” Wade whines, “but I’m just saying, we deserve a bottle or two for cleaning the bathrooms after close. It should be mandatory after that time we found a peacock in the ladies room.” Bucky snickers at that, the peacock had been one hell of a surprise but the bird was fine and safely transferred to a location that it could safely frolic in. Wade, however, was not a fan of the mess it left behind.

“Okay but the bird was an easy fix, a couple of calls and it was taken care of, it’s the toilet play that throws me off. Go home and make a mess of your own bathroom, or at least clean up your mess if you insist on using public toilets,” he says. The next time he found turd on the walls he was finding the responsible party and rubbing their nose in it. Actually they might enjoy that, he’d tell them to clean it themselves, thanks. He’d even provide the supplies. Sometimes he wondered if that was the goal and it was some attempt at humiliation play gone wrong. In which case, stage the damn scene at home and leave him out of it.

“You make a point, Barnes, we should get free alcohol for dealing with kink. I mean I’m all for kinky freedom but only if I don’t have to clean it up. If I’m not involved in the situation I think it should go without saying that I don’t need to clean the results. We should post ‘use your own bathrooms for all kinky purposes’ in the bathrooms. And ‘leave the peacocks in peacock places’ signs,” Wade says.

“We already get free drinks, and customers buy us obscene amounts of alcohol,” Bucky points out. He could thank Coyote Ugly for that spitting the shot into another bottle trick otherwise he probably would have died from alcohol poisoning at least twice by now.

“I’m a selfish asshole and I want more. Think Weasel will give me a raise if I ask nicely?” he asks, grinning.

“I think if you ask he might dock your pay to be an ass,” Bucky says.

“Oh he would too. So, on to more important subjects, I heard you have a date. _You_ have a _date_ , with that blonde guy I’m guessing?” he asks and Bucky frowns.

“No, the hell drew you to that conclusion?” he asks. He loved Steve but not like that, never had and probably never would. He remembered when Steve was like five and had no front teeth, that hardly inspired any sort of sexual or romantic fantasies.

Wade looks at him like he just grew a second head, “you two have had a contract for literal years and you’re wondering why I would think you’re going on a date? Sounds fake but okay.”

“I’ve never had a contract with Steve, what inspired _that_ conclusion?” he asks, more confused than he was before.

“The fact that you two have been- you didn’t make a _contract_?” Wade asks, looking offended at this new knowledge.

“No? It wasn’t like we were doing anything formal or whatever, he just sort of… helps me out every once and awhile,” he says. Did people even _make_ contracts for those arrangements? Wade holds up his hand for a moment before walking off, returning with a squirt bottle a few seconds later and he lets loose, soaking Bucky. “Excuse you, stop that,” he whines, putting up a hand in attempt to protect himself from the spray.

“I _knew_ there was something off about you two and no I know what it is! You think he’s being a good friend and helping you out when you need to let loose a bit, and he’s _in love with you_ and you two don’t know that because you didn’t talk limits and shit! This is why you make a contract, Barnes, because you outline all the expectations and boundaries and all that so that this _doesn’t_ happen,” Wade says, giving him a disapproving look. Wade Wilson was giving him a disapproving look, what kind of weird, alternate universe did he wake up in today?

“I… don’t think Steve is in love with me,” he says slowly. He’s known Steve since forever; obviously he wasn’t in love with Bucky, that was ridiculous. He knew about that time Bucky wet his pants in the third grade, and he was there that time when Bucky got really sick and every orifice decided it needed to spew something at the same time. They were just so… platonic, and not in the maybe friends-with-benefits kind of way either. Like the good wholesome bake a pie and blast Nicki Manaj kind of way.

“Oh really, he’s not in love with you, so I’m gunna guess that he’s totally cool with this whole date thing, right? I’m sure he hasn’t really been kinda cold and distant since you mentioned it, has he? Maybe he tried to talk you out of it, or made you doubt why you’d even go on a date. Am I right or am I right?” Wade asks, eyebrow raised.

He was right but… but that was never what Bucky wanted and Steve knew that, or at least he thought he did. “But like… he just doesn’t want me to end up with another Brock,” he says and it was _true_. Oh course Steve wouldn’t want that for him, none of his friends did.

“Buddy, he doesn’t want you to end up with anyone but him, that’s the problem and _that’s_ why you have contracts and shit. Constant communication, you can’t just _assume_ the guy knows what you’re thinking, you have to say it. Which, by the way, is the best way to avoid another Brock. Trust me, you’ll know as soon as you start talking things out if they’re willing to respect your boundaries or not and if not, run like hell.” Wade’s advice was solid, Bucky knew, but he still didn’t think Steve was in love with him, that was absurd.

“The hell are you two doing back here? Do I pay you to jerk each other off?” Weasel asks, appearing pretty much out oh nowhere, as usual.

“Well if you’re gunna pay us…” Bucky trails off and wiggles his eyebrows suggestively.

Weasel looks physically pained by this, “seriously man, that was an _option_? Now I’m married and I have to know I could have pimped you out to Wilson and _watched_? Vanessa and Peter would be fine with it too, screw you for sitting on that, Barnes,” Weasel says.

Bucky snickers, “you couldn’t afford me anyways,” he jokes.

“You overestimate your worth, now get the hell out of here and go do your jobs,” Weasel says, shooing them out of the stock room.

*

This was a god awful, horrible idea and Tony was certain he was going to vomit. Natasha and Pepper watch on, amused and anxious for him respectively. “Calm down, Stark, you’ll be fine. You’re almost more famous for being a smooth talker than you are for inventing,” Natasha says unhelpfully.

“I’m known for cheap pick up lines and public sex, that’s hardly relationship material,” Tony points out. He was fucked up, like _really_ fucked up, Bucky didn’t need that shit. Hell, Tony didn’t need that shit but no matter how hard you tried you can’t outrun your own mind, he’s tried some pretty creative methods, he’d know.

Pepper goes to step forward, probably to comfort him, but Natasha holds her hand out slightly. It always surprises him when Pepper listens, dropping back into her seat with no questions asked and no complaints, because she never listens to him. Granted that was likely because his advice was absolutely horrible but still. “Tony you will be _fine_ , no go make yourself look like a presentable human instead of a homeless lump. You’re a billionaire, you have no business looking homeless,” Natasha tells him. He considers not listening just to spite her but he had no time for spite so he starts moving.

He hated dates because they’re unpredictable and he had no clue what to expect. With one-night stands the goals were always the same even if they methods varied, and everyone left the next morning happy with NDAs signed. Dates though, that was a whole new thing because you were expected to get to know a person, and maybe continue a relationship. One-night stands might have strings, but so long as everyone signed their paperwork it was difficult to make anything of it. Dates didn’t work like that because there was a brief grace period before you might take something further and Tony rather disliked that. It left him open to all kinds of bullshit, most of it emotional, some of it legal, that he’d rather avoid.

It made situations like this anxious making and his stupid ass forgot how much he hated all of this. But he wasn’t a total asshole, he’s actually been stood up as shocking as that was, and he would never do that to a person. He did, however, feel like he was about to throw up, which made dinner sound horribly unappealing. This was a _terrible_ idea and he had no idea why he had done this to himself and… and he needed to get his shit together. It was a goddamn date, not a marriage; it wasn’t like he couldn’t just _go_ if things didn’t work out. God, he must secretly be a masochist because he knew how much he hated these situations and yet here he was, _willingly_ attempting an emotional connection to someone he didn’t pay and who wasn’t overseas. Yikes.

Bucky had picked the location because Tony figured this would go easier if that was the case. If he knew the area, knew exactly what he was getting into than he might be more relaxed. The downside to that was that Tony had no escape routes planned and he was not strictly opposed to ditching out the bathroom window. He’s done it before. Unfortunately there were no bathroom windows here so he had no choice but to suck it up and deal with whatever was about to happen here.

Thankfully when he walks into the small restaurant he spies Bucky pretty much right away and he nearly cries in relief. He walks over and he knows he looks more confident than he feels, a habit he developed all through school. It was tough when you were the youngest one there, especially when you were also the smartest. More than once he had classmates destroy his projects out of fits of jealousy but the joke was on them because he always managed to build something better. “Hey,” he says, smoothly slipping into his seat across from Bucky and resisting the urge to extend his hand. This was a date, not a fucking business meeting. God.

“Hey,” Bucky says back, grinning just a bit, “you’re on time, I thought you said you had you had a habit of running late.”

“Yeah, usually I do but I was so nervous I showed up on time, so that’s weird. Um, can we just pretend I didn’t just open my mouth right now?” Tony asks, willing himself to be killed by a freak meteor to the head Sims style.

That earns him a wide smile and a small laugh as Bucky looks down at the table, brushing the bits of hair that had fallen out of his bun out of his face. He looked adorable and here Tony was making a giant fool of himself. Make that two meteors to the head, the second one for good measure. “I’ve said worse, trust me that was pretty tame,” Bucky says.

“Well, I guess you now have proof all those tabloids are lying about the smooth talker thing,” he says. That was not any less awkward, what the fuck, Stark?

“I don’t really read tabloids and even if I did they’ve said a lot of weird shit about Oprah so I’m pretty sure they can’t be trusted,” Bucky says.

“Who the hell reads tabloids about Oprah?” Tony asks.

“I read tabloids about Oprah,” Bucky says, hand pressed to his heart in mock offense. They stare at each other for a moment and burst out laughing.

“Seriously?” he asks.

“She’s interesting,” Bucky says in his own defense and Tony starts laughing harder. “Stop laughing, you sound like you read tabloids about yourself and that’s way more embarrassing than reading about dramatizations of Oprah’s life.”

“It is not, I mean I kind of have to deal with all that crap eventually because people thinks it’s all _true_. I can’t believe that I have actually had to explain to people that I am _not_ involved with the Illuminati. And I mean these were people I was doing _business_ with Bucky, not your average conspiracy nut, and I had to explain that I didn’t do Illuminati things. Unbelievable,” he says, shaking his head. “And they make cool puns out of my name, I love puns. I mean if I have to deal with the rumors that I slept with some dude’s daughter, might as well read the stories to stay ahead of the curve.” Also he liked reading tabloids about himself, people were allowed to have guilty pleasures, okay.

Bucky laughs, “I can’t believe you read tabloids about yourself,” he says.

“You know what, you read tabloids about Oprah, you can’t judge me, it’s illegal.” Really, who even cared about Oprah’s life that much? Did Oprah even do things that got her into tabloids? Somehow he doubted that she got caught in semi-regular threesomes in houses that weren’t hers the way he did. He swore no one knew what a fucking lock was these days.

“According to what law?” Bucky asks, amused.

“Um. Federal law,” Tony says, delivering that line with far more confidence that it deserved.

“You know nothing about law,” Bucky says, snickering.

“I know stuff about law, corporate law, and mostly how not to break it. You gotta bend it a little, seduce it, make sure no one catches you when you outright break laws because you personally find the laws stupid and useless. Sic a bunch of lawyers on the sorry fucker who figures it out, usually a competitor. Eat the competitor, and then sleep well at night because you’re a soulless hellbeast. You know, the usual,” Tony says flippantly.

Bucky throws back his head and laughs, “soulless hellbeast?”

“Not my words,” Tony says in his own defense, “personally I think that’s a bit dramatic, I’m definitely more of a hell _hound_ but like I guess I’ll take it. So what about you?”

“Well my life certainly isn’t _that_ interesting, I mean no one has accused me of being a hellbeast lately. Yesterday one of my coworkers talked at alarming length about some experiment he’s been growing in his fridge and now I’m a little worried about his health. But one of his significant others is a scientist so I mean if it’s deadly I’m sure Peter will get rid of it.” For a guy with an uninteresting life that sounded pretty interesting.

“You haven’t been called a hellbeast _lately_ , that definitely implies that you’ve been called a hellbeast and I kinda want to know about it. Also your coworkers? Way more interesting than mine. Once I had to explain to some guy’s kid that Japan was a real place, not a fictional city Godzilla destroyed so science experiments are one hundred percent better,” Tony says.

“I think we have different definitions of boring, Tony, because that’s very exciting. The most exciting thing that’ll happen to me this week is finding out who catches Wade eating the experiment and what punishment he gets. But like the guy is willing to eat two-month-old chimichangas, the guy is clearly a masochist at heart. I mean what do you even _do_ with that? Anyways, so the hellbeast thing. So when I was young and dumb my idiot ass decided it was a good plan to sleep with the Pastor’s daughter. It was so worth it to get called the devil in human flesh, but like the guy was yelling about how the devil was always good looking so he’s tempting so I mean that wasn’t even an insult.”

Different definitions of boring for sure, because this was probably the most invested he’s been in getting to know someone since he met Pepper and got told off within seconds. “Ahh, I _love_ being accused of being the devil, or sleeping with the devil because that’s a thing. The problem is when both accusations are made in the same breath, which implies… well it implies that I’m fucking myself. They don’t like it when you point out that no, you were fucking their wife. To be fair most of the time I don’t know they’re married, the rest of the time I do and god, you gotta take some pity on the poor thing that married Justin Hammer. So now that we know that we’re both accused hellbeast or devils, what do we do with that? You thin two hellbeasts cancel each other out to make like a broken angel or something?” he asks.

“Uhh, pretty sure that’s not how hellbeasts work, Tony,” Bucky says.

“Okay, but how _do_ hellbeasts work? Because I could really use the insight.” Like a self-psychology thing, maybe he’d learn a thing or two about himself via the hellbeast. He was sure Hammer would agree considering he was damn intent on letting everyone know he thought Tony was the product of the devil at the very least and the actual devil at worst.

“Uhh?” someone says and Tony finds some poor server standing slightly behind him looking confused.

“Do you know how a hellbeast works?” Tony asks him, tilting his head to the side quizzically.

The server looks to be at a complete loss as to what to do with that, “no?” he finally answers, eyebrows drawing together.

“Water would be lovely,” Tony tells him and he turns back around. The guy makes a confused noise but he wanders off, probably to get away from Tony’s embarrassing self.

Bucky is laughing so hard he isn’t making noise anymore so maybe this wasn’t as horrible as he thought. God, on any given occasion he had no filter but his lack of filter has lost it’s fucking filter and now he was just… spewing whatever words were coming to his head. He really needed to get ahold of himself; really, he was supposed to be some sort of Casanova or whatever else the media labeled him. Clearly they smooth talking guy they thought he was did not exist but if he did Tony was praying to a god he didn’t even believe in to make this date go a little less horribly for him.

“I can probably never come back here but it was so worth it to see the look on that guy’s face when you asked him how a hellbeast worked. I think I might be in love with you,” Bucky says and Tony isn’t sure how serious he is about that.

“Thanks,” he says, going with the worst possible response, “that makes two of us.” He lied, _that_ was the worst possible response.

*

If Bucky had been born with a filter he would have been _fine_. Hell, if he never dated Brock Rumlow and still had some self-confidence he probably would have been fine. But no, life hated Bucky Barnes because he was probably the most embarrassing thing Tony has ever had the misfortune of keeping company for a couple hours. All he had to do was survive _dinner_ and he told Tony he loved him, who the fuck did that? Granted Tony took some serious pity on him and played it off as a joke, thank _god_ , but still. A few hours, that was all, and he managed to completely screw himself over with three little words and his big fat mouth.

He wasn’t even in love with Tony, why the hell would he say something so stupid good fucking lord. Steve was right about this maybe being too soon because he usually had more cool than this, or at least he didn’t admit to loving a dude until at least the third date. In hindsight he probably should have waited a little longer on Brock to see how that played out but that didn’t work so well in the end.

Tony was _drawing_ though, everything about him made Bucky want more and he wasn’t sure if he should be terrified or throwing himself into this head first. Probably terrified, that was the more logical reaction but the rest of him was telling him to fuck logic. He had thought Brock was like this but Tony was just _so_ much more appealing in every way. He was genuinely funny, if in his own weird way, smart, and observant. Wade had told him to watch for a few cues, to slip a few things into conversation to see what happened. Tony remembered what he said he always ate, asked questions about his family when he mentioned them, remembered the details later. By all means he was passing with flying colors and Bucky kind of wanted to curl up on his lap.

Didn’t mean he wasn’t skeptical though. What the hell could someone like Tony possibly see in someone like _him_? Bucky had no clue and it made him feel half special for being the one who caught Tony’s attention and half scared that he had some unknown ulterior motive. But Bucky wasn’t an idiot, he didn’t actually _have_ anything Tony could possibly want and what he did have he could find elsewhere easily. So that left him hopefully apprehensive about the whole thing.

When he gets home Steve is waiting, looking anxious, like Bucky was going to come home a mess or something. “How’d it go?” he asks gently, almost like he had expected it went badly.

“Great,” Bucky says, “I haven’t laughed that hard since Phil got stuck in the compost and Clint had to get him out.” To this day no one knew how he got in, but boy did they laugh hard when they found him there. How the hell Clint managed to gather himself long enough to pull his poor sub from the fermenting veggies Bucky had no idea, because the rest of them were growing abs on the ground. Phil refused to explain the situation.

“Oh,” Steve says and Bucky doesn’t miss the disappointment there. He sighs, thinking maybe that Wade’s theory _might_ have some basis in reality. Either way he was going to have to talk to Steve anyways so he might as well do it sooner than later. He’d wait until tomorrow.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Brief warning for some communication issues between Steve and Bucky that have been alluded to previously. And some mentions of Rumlow and all the crap that comes with him.

“It was an irresponsible decision, Tony, and I want you to reconsider it,” Obadiah says and Tony resists the urge to reach across the table and smack the man.

“It was ethically necessary and I’ve told you that I’m _not_ reconsidering the decision. Besides, there’s no reason to, the company is more profitable now than it’s ever been without the weapons so why are we even having this discussion?” he asks somewhat calmly. He barely keeps his voice under control but yelling at Obi wouldn’t do anyone any good. The man responded to that worse than Tony did and his reactions were to either lash out or shut down. Unfortunately that meant that he had to keep his cool when he half wanted to punch Obi out. Pepper calmly sits out of the way taking notes and looking over files, doing whatever it was that she needed to do to keep busy.

Normally she’d be more vocal, standing up for Tony where she could, but with Obadiah she remained uncharacteristically silent. Tony wanted to ask Natasha about that, ask if Pepper was even okay with being in the same room as the man, and where her fear seemed to come from. And it was fear, not simple dislike, Pepper didn’t care if she didn’t like people she learned to work with them, but Obadiah was a whole new case. She was civil with him of course, and he got the information he needed to keep business running smoothly, which was transmitted via Pepper, but she never spoke to him first. Pepper was not the type of person to remain silent unless spoken to; she had too much to say to do that.

“Look Tony, I get that you had some… I don’t know, moral revelation or something but weapons aren’t all bad. You know that, or at least you used to, and once upon a time Stark Industries was known for its weapons,” he says gently, like he’s trying to cajole Tony into listening. He’s known Tony for the better part of his life; he should know that Tony didn’t respond to people babying him. He didn’t much respond to threats, bribes, bargaining, or pretty much anything else either, not unless he wanted to. There was a time and a place for negotiation and bargaining and he found it near useless in these sorts of situations. Of course business always required you to do things that were unpleasant, but he wasn’t going to _kill_ people for profit.

Contrary to popular opinion he wasn’t _that_ much of a piece of shit. Besides, Obi already pointed it out, that was Howard’s legacy, not his. Maybe he had wanted to follow in Howard’s footsteps once, but he hated the man, it made no sense to want to be anything like him and he realized that now. “It wasn’t a moral revelation, Obi, it was common sense. Blowing people up for money is pretty shitty thing to do and I’m done with that. Clean energy took off just like I predicted it would, the rest of the tech branches of the company are doing far better than they ever have, and there is no reason to consider weapons. You told me you’d drop the subject if my plan panned out and I’d say international fame and billions of dollars speaks for itself,” Tony says firmly.

Obi doesn’t look impressed but he doesn’t have much of a counter argument. The company wasn’t suffering, it was the opposite of suffering, and Tony’s new inventions had skyrocketed him into mainstream fame. When he managed to get popular outside of the science and business community obi would have known that it was senseless to try and argue his point on weapons. Clearly Tony didn’t need that particular branch of business to make money because he was doing damn well without it. “Are there any other business ideas for me to shoot down?” he asks. Obi clenches his jaw but he doesn’t say anything to further his point, which proved his point sucked anyways. If he hadn’t been prepared to argue with Tony than he should have kept his mouth shut.

“Sex toys,” Pepper says, making her presence known.

“Sex toys?” Tony asks, frowning.

“Natasha’s been harassing me about Stark dildos for years. It’d be just as profitable as weapons,” Pepper points out, eyes flicking over to Obi. So _that’s_ what she’s been doing over there while he argued with Obi. Tony was certain she had an entire business plan laid out, complete with expected costs, profits, and long-term effects on the company. Pepper was a planner, he was certain she was more than capable of arguing her stance, not that she had to because she was right. Sex toys would make millions.

“That would also ruin our reputation,” Obadiah says and Tony lets out a sharp laugh.

“Really? You seriously think I should consider _war profiteering_ over _orgasm profiteering_? No, Pep’s right, it’s a brilliant idea, and it won’t do much to effect our image considering I’m pretty known for my sexual exploits. Seems to fit the image more than breaking it, so what’s real hang up, Obi?” he asks, getting straight to the point.

“No ulterior motive, Tony, just worried about the company image. You know those vanilla movements won’t like you much and they’re loud, it’ll bring unwanted attention,” Obi says.

“Like my public, sometimes literally, sex life doesn’t? Besides, vanilla movements aren’t taken seriously by anyone because they took ideas that _might_ have been good and butchered them with bullshit propaganda that makes the majority of the population out to be evil. The fact that they’ll hate us will probably up sales because people will buy shit out of spite,” he says. It’s what he would do.

“Not everyone thinks like you, Tony,” Obi says, eyebrow raised.

“Of course not, but he’s right. Natasha’s done that. Besides, the fact that he thinks differently is why he’s successful, if you need reminding,” Pepper says in a cool tone and she tacks a chilly smile on to add insult to injury. Tony was going to give her a raise for being so awesome.

Obadiah rolls his eyes, “oh what do you know, you’re his assistant” he snaps.

Tony doesn’t even realize he’s jumped out of his seat and almost across the table until he’s all but up Obi’s nose, “apologize for that,” he snaps, “in case you forgot she’s more qualified to run this business than I am considering _she’s_ the one with the business degree from an Ivy League college. I might have seven PhDs but not one of them relate to business, actually _none_ of my degrees do. So where ever you got _that_ opinion you can throw it out, right after you apologize to Pepper.”

Obi’s eyebrows hit his hairline, well, where his hairline would be if he had one, “are two _together_?” he asks, “I knew it!” he says excitedly.

“We’re not together, she’s dating Natasha happily and has been for years you ass. I just happen to think she’s deserving of basic decency and respect so _apologize_ ,” he snaps. He could not _believe_ that Obadiah assumed he was _dating_ Pepper when she has been in a committed relationship for years. He does apologize though, not that he meant it, before winking at Tony and leaving.

“Did that _skeeze_ just wink at you?” Pepper asks, looking disgusted.

“Yeah, he did. Does that subtly imply that I’m lying about dating you and that Natasha is… oh I don’t know, not dating you or something?” he asks. If it did he was going to have _words_ with Obadiah about this later.

Pepper lays a hand on his shoulder, “don’t bother Tony, you already knew he was homophobic, it makes sense that he would assume that Nat is… to be honest I have no clue what he thinks she’s doing. Unless he thinks you’re dating both of us, which is absolutely never happening. Sorry,” Pepper says, not sounding sorry at all.

It was more than a little weird that Tony’s first instinct was to think of Bucky and what he would think of that so he brushes it off. “No thanks, I’m good. I mean I love you but in the strictly platonic kind of way, we’d never work romantically anyways. We’ve been business partners too long to look at each other naked. Well, for me to see you naked, you’ve seen me naked probably more times than you really wanted to. Sorry about that,” he says and Pepper snorts, telling him he was not sorry at all. Which he was not but still, it was nice to apologize for his nutty sex life. Natasha told him so.

“Don’t be sorry, I would never date you. I love you of course, but you are not dating material,” Pepper says. He’d be hurt by that if it wasn’t so true.

“Think Nat would be willing to date me?” he asks, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Absolutely not,” Pepper tells him with a hurtful amount of certainty.

“I’m gunna text her and find out,” he says.

“Anthony Stark you put that phone down!” Pepper says, trying to get to his phone but it was too late, the text was sent.

He doesn’t have to wait long for a reply, “what’d she say?” Pepper asks anxiously.

“That she’d rather drink battery acid and bathe in lye. You guys are hurtful, she’d rather bathe in _lye_ , I have been reliably informed that my oral sex skills are great and I feel like a use for that,” Tony says. Honestly, he wasn’t _that_ bad. Okay he was but _still_.

“She already has me, why would she possibly need you. I’m more efficient,” Pepper tells him proudly.

*

Bucky might not pay attention to tabloids but he did know that information was important, so he employed Phil on an information expedition. “He’s involved in a lot of charities, good charities too, its clear he’s done his research. There are several for abused and battered teens, and some stuff for underprivileged students. He also seems hell bent of recalling every weapon he’s ever distributed, seriously, he has made _effort_. This must have cost him a fortune,” Phil says, frowning at the computer screen.

“Is that… a bad thing?” Bucky asks, because he really didn’t see how any of this could be a bad thing. Tony sounded fantastic and Bucky was happy for that because he really enjoyed talking to him. They had been texting frequently and Tony’s commentary on business meetings was _hilarious_ , more than once he’s laughed so hard he forgot to breathe. He didn’t miss the hurt looks on Steve’s face every time that happened but he was staving off their conversation for now. Truth be told he had no clue how to bring it up, so he sort of just tried to avoid Steve altogether.

“Obviously not,” Phil says, “but it’s a sharp contrast with his public image. Have you _read_ this stuff?” he asks, holding up some magazines. “He sounds like a reckless, impulsive, abusive _jackass_ ,” Phil spits, “but if that was true than why spend millions, I have an actual figure now, trying to clean up damage you feel personally responsible for? And he _does_ feel personally responsible; I have several first and second hand accounts of this. I also have several accounts of him personally speaking with the teens he’s set up charity for, most of them end with them saying Tony changed their life. Clearly the public image is a lie.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow, “what makes you think the public image is the one that’s constructed? Wouldn’t it make sense that the truth is like… a mix of both or something?” he asks. He wants to ignore the bad altogether but that was irresponsible, he knew from an experience he never wanted to repeat. That was why Phil was here, he would be objective and apparently he used to be a fucking _spy_ , Bucky figured he would know what was up. Normally he’d ask Steve for advice on stuff like this but Wade went and ruined that with his stupid and probably true theory about Steve being in love with him.

Phil shakes his head, “oh I have no doubt he’s reckless and impulsive, that’s abundantly clear in the way he deals with the media. But everything that’s pushed out by a media source is meant to sell so of course it’s going to be embellished and played up. The stories are probably only half true at best. Now if the rest of the information I got was pushed out by Stark Industries I’d say the same, but a lot of this information is coming from sources that have no reason to lie, no reason to like Tony or say anything nice about him. Ergo the information is probably closer to the truth. It isn’t completely unbiased but you never find information without taint so. The good news is that Tony Stark is mostly a good person according to the information I have gathered, but he’s also a bit of an asshole. Can’t find ‘em perfect, I guess, minus Clint of course,” he says, smiling proudly at the mention of his Dom.

Clint being perfect was as likely as Bucky asking Steve to bend him over his knee and call him daddy. Absolutely fucking not. “Yeah okay, let’s pretend Clint doesn’t have cockroaches following his every move,” Bucky says, earning a disgusted look from Phil.

“We dealt with those, they’re gone now,” he says in an ominous tone. Poor roaches.

“So, all this ‘objective image’ business, did ya learn this being a spy or…” Bucky trails off, raising an eyebrow.

Phil lets out an exaggerated sigh, “Bucky, you know I can’t talk about my spy work without killing you after,” he says in a far too serious tone. “And most of it was boring work like this, gathering information and comparing it to try and gain the most objective image possible. So, when’s your next date with Stark?” he asks, effectively changing the subject.

He rolls his eyes because Phil’s spy career was probably _way_ more exciting than he let on if that confrontation with Brock was any indication. He wanted to know where Phil learned to beat the hell out of a dude with a bag of flour, then he wanted to _learn_. “Okay but like… have ever killed anyone? Come on, we know the government does some fucked up shit, Guantanamo Bay and all that, you had to have gotten into some sketchy government messes. I swear I won’t tell anyone but Clint, Steve, Wade, Weasel, maybe Tony. That isn’t really that many people and I mean Tony probably already knows government secrets so he doesn’t even count,” Bucky says. “Oh, and we’re supposed to meet tonight. Hence you cyber stalking him and such.”

“You waited until almost the second date to get me to vet him? Bucky Barnes, you know better than that. And spy work isn’t a Bond movie but yes, people have died, maybe because I killed them, maybe because a building fell on their head. You’ll never know and neither will the government. And you tell no one about this, Barnes, because I am trusting you with a maybe government secret that could get us both killed, possibly. Have you talked to Steve about this yet? You’re going to have to break your contract if this gets serious,” Phil points out.

Great, he was going to get a lecture from Phil too. “First off your maybe sort of could be secret if you look sideways sucked and told me mostly nothing possibly. And to be fair I did try and get you to come over yesterday but then Clint’s dogs escaped and you had to go chase them all down. Also, and I am trusting you with this knowledge on the assumption that you aren’t going to lecture me; I don’t have a contract to break with Steve. Never did,” he says bluntly.

For a second Phil looks as if he’s waiting for Bucky to say more, or maybe take back the information he gave out but he doesn’t. “You _never_ had a contract? Then how the hell did you function? Where were the limits and the and the planning and the organization and… and you can’t _do_ that there needs to be _communication_ ,” Phil says with meaning.

Right, Bucky forgot how detail oriented Phil was on any given occasion. There wasn’t a situation he didn’t micromanage with maybe the exception of whatever he and Clint did behind closed doors and even then Bucky had his doubts. Phil was a planner; it was hard to imagine him doing anything that didn’t have him in control. And Clint was so laid back in comparison, Bucky had always wondered how the hell _that_ worked, particularly because Phil’s control issues must act as a problem, the had to. The man micromanaged things so much his date book had a date book, and they were both color coded and organized by level of importance. Clearly he wouldn’t understand the lack of contract thing.

“We’ve known each other since forever, I mean he knows what I’m comfortable with mostly,” he says. Plus Steve would never hurt him, and it hadn’t really occurred to him to make a contract. At the time he was more concerned with other things and he just needed comfort.

“Mostly,” Phil repeats, “is _why_ contracts exist. Look, I get your actions, I saw what you were like after Brock and honestly you had more important things to worry about. But Steve should have known better, and he should have known that you’re a completely different person since Brock. Don’t look so upset Bucky, it isn’t a bad thing, but situations like that, they change you. The person that Steve knew so well doesn’t exist any more and it was his job to know that as the more mentally competent person in this situation. I guess that explains all the lovesick looks Steve gives you when he thinks you aren’t looking. I did wonder about that but I figured it wasn’t my business, and you weren’t being hurt, I would have seen the signs. Clearly I should have said something.”

“Why does this even matter if I’m not being hurt, then?” he snaps, irritated with this damn situation. And as if Wade has never done anything irresponsible, he regularly ate food that Peter could probably run experiments on not to mention the rest of his general existence. Phil, well, he panicked if people didn’t use coasters, he wasn’t really the best judge of mental competence. Bucky clenches his jaw and looks away because that was cruel of him to think, even if he hadn’t said it out loud.

“Whatever it was that just went through your head right now that you didn’t like, _that’s_ why this is important. Because Steve should have known that you weren’t in the best of places to be thinking about your own health and safety like that, and now you’re both dealing with the fallout of that irresponsibility. Whatever feelings he had in the beginning he should have made them clear, and he should have made them clear when hey changed too. Those are things you need to know, things that were relevant and important to your arrangement and would be important to you as well as him. You need to talk to him about this,” Phil says. Bucky wants to crawl under a rock because he knew that was coming and he didn’t want to hear it.

*

Unfortunately for Bucky the world hates him because Steve decides they need to talk when he comes home. He stands in Bucky’s doorway giving him puppy dog eyes and Bucky feels somewhat trapped, stuck within the four walls of his room because Steve is standing in his only exit. Technically he could go out the window but that would be socially unacceptable and he’s also pretty sure Steve could haul him back in before he escaped. So he feels a little claustrophobic despite having plenty of space but he doesn’t say anything about that.

“You’ve been avoiding me,” Steve says and it feels like an accusation even though its true.

His first instinct is to deny it but that would be useless, “yeah, sort of,” he mumbles, looking away.

“Not sort of Bucky, every time you see me you all but run away. Are you okay?” he asks, taking a step into his room. Bucky gets off the bed and wanders further into the space, which wasn’t a whole lot father considering his bed sat against the back wall.

“I’m fine,” he says. Except for all the crap he was going to have to deal with because Steve hadn’t said anything about any possible feelings.

“Bucky,” Steve says in a warning tone, taking another step closer. Bucky fights the urge to skitter back because Steve was only trying to comfort him, even if he was doing a terrible job of it.

“Do you love me?” he blurts for lack of something better.

“Of course I do Bucky, what made you think I didn’t?” he asks, frowning at Bucky and looking hurt.

He rolls his eyes, “romantically, Steve. Are you in love with me?” Get to the point and maybe this would be less painful. Maybe. Probably not.

That seems to give Steve pause and Bucky takes the time to try and get his shit together. He was being ridiculous but he couldn’t shake the feeling that something was under his skin. It was a familiar feeling, he knew that he was panicking but he was being stupid damnit, and he needed to calm down.

“I… I’ve been meaning to say something but-” Steve starts but Bucky cuts him off.

“For how long?” he asks.

He expects Steve to answer right away but he looks away instead and Bucky knew that was a bad sign. Steve was a pretty straightforward person; he didn’t much like skirting around things unless the subject was uncomfortable for him. “Since the beginning, but-” Bucky cuts him off again.

“The _beginning_ , and you didn’t think it was important to say something?” he snaps. Come on, that was just common sense, you didn’t agree to act as someone’s stand in Dom when you were _in love with them_ and they didn’t know. That was ridiculous!

“You had bigger things to worry about than my feeling and I thought… I guess I thought that maybe you might feel the same way. Eventually,” he throws in, seemingly remembering that Bucky had just gotten out of an abusive relationship and probably wasn’t thinking about moving on.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” he snaps, “I _told_ you that I had no interest in a relationship, I still don’t by the way. Not with you anyways, you’re my friend and I thought you understood that but instead you’ve apparently been creepily pining for me and you didn’t even _tell_ me. And you know what, I would have been fine with you keeping your feelings to yourself if you didn’t agree to act as my Dom. But no, you knew about your unresolved feelings and you said yes anyways? That is so… so… irresponsible!” he says because he didn’t have anything better right now.

Who the hell even _did_ that? And Steve has always been the more responsible of the two, at least later in life; he had a weird thing for getting into fights when he was younger. If anyone would know how fucking stupid a decision that was Bucky figured it would be Steve.

“You needed help, I wasn’t going to just… abandon you,” Steve says a little desperately.

“So instead you decided to keep your feelings to yourself in the hopes that you would like… Dom me into caring about you in the same way? Do you even understand how _creepy_ that is? That’s so… so…” _Brock_ he wants to say but Steve wouldn’t appreciate the comparison and it wasn’t totally true anyways, “violating.” It wasn’t a perfect choice in word but it suited Bucky’s feelings well enough.

“Bucky-”

“No, don’t ‘Bucky’ me. You kept important information to yourself and you did it in the hopes that it would work out to your benefit. And that was _after_ I told you I wasn’t interested in a relationship, and I thought I’ve made that clear several times since then and you chose not to listen. That… that… I have to go,” he says suddenly. That prickly feeling under his skin was growing and his head hurt and there were spots in his vision and- he needed to leave.

Steve tries to reach out to him as he passes but Bucky jerks away quickly, moving faster as he heads to the door and to fresh air. God, this was a fucking disaster, Steve was supposed to be his friend and- he didn’t even know what to _do_ with this information. He grabs his coat and heads out the door without any idea of where he was going; just that he wasn’t going to come home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took 80 years to update! I had to write two essays this week so I got a bit swamped with work. But I finished my second essay today (rough draft) so this was my reward! Also I took two million years to update this sucker so I kind of had to get it done. 
> 
> Everyone sort of has issues in this chapter but nothing explicit, it's just kinda sad. Anyways hope you enjoy!

Tony sighs, looking at the files that were literally up to his eyeballs in distain. Well, this was horrible and he was _supposed_ to have a date tonight. That probably wasn’t going to happen because he needed to get this all done before he went anywhere or Obi was going to have his ass. Pepper would probably have his ass too given that her work relied on him getting his own done and she didn’t like missing deadlines. There was no way he could get it all done before tomorrow at noon let alone before dinner tonight but he didn’t want to cancel…

Thankfully Bucky solves the problem himself when he calls in a panic, only sort of making sense. “Hey whoa, whoa, slow down, I can only half hear you. Are you in a bathroom? You sound really echo-y. Oh god, do you have one of those Hammer phones? Do you even know how shitty those things are? They’re cheaper than Hammer himself and- you know what, I’m going to save my lectures for when you’ll be able to actually appreciate my words. What’s up?” he asks. A stack of files nearly falls over and he manages to snatch it just in time, pushing them back into the leaning tower of Shit Stew that his office was becoming. Ugh.

Bucky lets out a hysterical little laugh but he sounds calmer, “look, I’m sorry but I can’t do this,” Bucky says, hysterical edge still in his tone of voice.

“I’m going to assume ‘this’ is our date, which is convenient because neither can I. I’m literally up to my eyeballs in paperwork, like that isn’t even an exaggeration. I’d like to see the doors of my office but I can’t because there’s so much crap in front of me.” Maybe a couple years ago he would have left this to the last minute but he likes to think he’s grown as a person a little since his partying days. Admittedly they came a bit later than normal, usually college kids did the partying thing, but he was graduating college at fourteen so he was a wee bit underage. Then he did his Masters, then his first PhD, then his parents died and he floundered hard. Obi was useful then, taking over the business while Tony chased any way to avoid the pain that he could.

Eventually it got just a tad out of control and, well, if he never saw Rhodey that disappointed again it’d be too soon. People liked to say addicts couldn’t quit cold turkey and that might be true for some people but Tony hadn’t had much of a problem. Well, he did, but his resolve to stop drinking was more powerful than his desire to pick up a drink. Plus he’s always been an all or nothing kind of guy, it didn’t surprise him that he reacted the way he did. The point was that he was more responsible now, at least when he felt like it, so he usually got his paperwork done on time. Usually. Sometimes he fucked off to his lab because his toys were more fun and he left all the work to Obi. He wished this was one of the times he could do that but sadly he could not.

“Oh,” Bucky says and for a moment he leaves it at that, “that sounds… thrilling.”

“About as thrilling as watching paint dry on a humid day. Normally I’d leave this sort of thing to Obadiah but Europe took a shit and now I have to deal with all the ways business could tank over there and really, this sucks. I think watching paint dry on a humid day might actually be more fun,” he says. Distraction, he has learned, was a great way to avoid panic attacks, or to pull yourself out of one. He hadn’t even _known_ that his regular freaking the hell out to the point where your vision was blacking out a little and you couldn’t breath anymore wasn’t normal until Riley clued him in. Apparently normal people didn’t do that ever let alone at least twice a month. He also learned that normal people didn’t think that all the people that loved them would just up and leave them one day. He had no idea how people functioned without the crushing weight of knowing that their loved ones would realize how horrible they were and leave without ever looking back but okay.

Riley had some interesting thoughts, and he thought Tony’s last therapist was a fucking moron too so that made him less of a quack in Tony’s opinion. He was also worried about Tony’s insomnia but he’s always had trouble getting to sleep, there was always too much going on in his mind at any one time. It was easier to work himself into the ground until he passed out. That was an unhealthy habit but whatever; Riley didn’t know what it was like to have the designs keep him awake for so long he just wrote them down. He couldn’t sleep unless he wrote them down.

“It isn’t, trust me,” Bucky says, drawing Tony’s attention away from his semi-successful therapy sessions. “I… I’m sorry, I just-”

“Hey, hey, none of that,” Tony says, cutting Bucky off, “don’t ever apologize for your discomfort. This is good, you _should_ tell me when you’re uncomfortable, and anyone else for that matter. So no need to apologize. Plus it isn’t like I can leave the office either, as much as I’d like to.” At this point if his only exit was a window he might take it. Well, probably not, most of the time he didn’t have any real desire to die. He decided to keep that to himself, no need for Riley to have more reason to try and stick him on some medication that was bound to make him feel like a zombie in the name of being ‘right’. He’s had enough of that, thanks.

“I… um… thank you,” Bucky says eventually and he actually sound relieved. Good. Tony wanted to meet the asshole that made Bucky feel like he had to apologize for his discomfort to punch them but hey, it wasn’t a perfect world. He had a strong dislike for them on principal though; no one would feel like they have to apologize for not wanting someone to breach their boundaries. He’s done enough of that too and he was done with acting like he was supposed to feel sorry that someone else was in the wrong. Not his style. It wasn’t his intention to make anyone else uncomfortable either, unless they were uncomfortable because they were like homophobic or something. Then he’d be as gay as he could get but he wasn’t the wrong one there.

“No worries,” Tony says, “except for all the paperwork.” He eyes the stack wearily but he figures he should get to the stacks before they grew even larger. Honestly he could read ten times faster than the average person, it wasn’t like this would take long once he fell into a pattern but he didn’t really want to fall into a pattern. Bucky stammers out an awkward goodbye and Tony is left to his own devices but, first he was going to need like six gallons of coffee.

He’s halfway through the giant stack and silently praying for his own death when his phone rings, offering him a merciful distraction from yet another file of shit that mirrored the last twenty goddamn files. “Stark,” he says into the receiver, wrinkling his nose at the next pile of paperwork in front of him. He should just sign the company over to Pepper and then she could do all the paperwork and he could invent things like he wanted to. If Obi wouldn’t skin him alive for trying that he’d so do it.

“Hey Tony,” Bucky says and he straightens up some. He probably should have checked the caller I.D before assuming it was some business associate or Pepper. Well, too late now. “Umm, so I know I called like four hours ago to cancel but like… can I uncancel? I know you said you couldn’t leave but I could bring you food, if you wanted,” Bucky says, sounding hesitant, unsure.

Tony squints at the clock on his computer. Shit, it had been four hours, where the hell had the time gone? “Uh, yeah, alright. I could use the company, these files are boring as hell and _why_ did I ever decide being a CEO was a good idea? I should have been a stripper like I wanted,” he mumbles more to himself than Bucky. Howard had been _pissed_ when he whipped that out at fifteen. His mother had covered her mouth and her eyes had crinkled a little, indicating that she was smiling though she didn’t say much of anything. Obviously she understood him but Howard, not so much, so Tony got a long lecture in not disrespecting the family name.

Boy was Howard pissed when Tony told him that all his DUIs probably already fucked the family name beyond recognition. It wasn’t his fault it was true and then Howard hit him and his mother wasn’t smiling anymore but Tony was plenty used to it by then. He died two years later and that was the best day of Tony’s life, and the worst, because his childhood terror and savior happened to die at the same time. That was rather unfortunate but whatever.

“Yeah, and what would your stage name be, hmm?” Bucky asks, sounding more amused than nervous now. Good, that was the goal.

“Iron Man,” Tony says because he’s thought this out thoroughly. He had _routines_ , okay; he’d be a fucking great stripper. Back during his party days he had the strippers he hired teach him a thing or two for fun. The part where he almost broke his neck was less fun but hey, they all had their failings, his was a pole but he got better eventually. Even Natasha was impressed with his skills and she was not an easy woman to impress.

“That’s a horrible stripper name, you should stick with the CEO thing. Pizza sound good?” Bucky asks.

“Okay first of all Iron Man is great, thank you. I’d like to see you come up with something better. Pizza sounds great, honestly you could feed me cardboard with hot sauce on it and I’d be happy right about now,” he says. When was the last time he ate? He tries to remember but comes up empty, which probably indicated a whole host of issues but he wasn’t going to tell Riley about those either. Better to play things close to the chest, you never know, this wouldn’t be the first time he didn’t think a doctor was a total jackass and he didn’t have a desire to be proven wrong. Again.

“That is _disgusting_ ,” Bucky says, snickering at him, “I’m pretty sure even college students have higher standards than that. And if I were a stripper I would be the Winter Soldier, sounds mysterious and sexy. Plus there’s that whole military kink thing I’d have going for me. Wade would be Deadpool, and Steve would Captain America,” Bucky says, a hint of pride in his tone.

“College students will eat anything, I ran a few unethical studies in MIT. Kangaroo was a hit, and people liked the chocolate covered ants until they found out they were ants. Except Scott Lang but he was a weird fucker, pretty sure he has a kid and a criminal record now. Anyways. Winter Solider? No, Rhodey would cry at the use of military kink, I’ve told you about his plight over people joining the military for kinky purposes, right? Don’t do it. Also who the shit would go see a stripper named _Deadpool_? That’s like the opposite of sexy. And Captain America? That makes that guy sound like a wholesome jackass.” Who would want their stage name to be _Captain America_? “And what is with the consistent military theme here? I won’t judge, but we can’t tell Rhodey,” he says playfully. He’s seen the dead-eyed stare of despair Rhodey handed out to anyone who even vaguely alluded to a military kink.

It was almost amusing watching him beat people off when he mentioned being a colonel. It was Tony’s favorite thing to do if Rhodey was being an asshole, slipping his military status into a conversation and then watching the news _spread_. It was a pretty popular kink so by the end of the event Rhodey was a pretty popular guy. Back before he joined the military he used to use the ‘going off to war’ ruse to bring some cute Dom home but now he wanted absolutely nothing to do with that particular kink. Which was why Tony made sure to mention it if he got the chance. But Rhodey mentioned that weird thing he had for tech every chance he got so he could stuff it. No one needed to know about his math boners but Rhodey, after discovering that lovely little fact, had been using it against him ever since. Total _asshole_ but Tony loved him anyways.

“Okay you know what, you don’t even know the ants are _in_ the chocolate so people caring about that is stupid. And trust me, the crowd Wade would drag in would appreciate Deadpool as a stage name. And Steve kind of _is_ a wholesome jackass so it fits. And no, I do _not_ have a military kink, or any other uniform based kink. Unless you count suits, which I don’t by the way. I just think the names sound neat,” Bucky says.

“And Iron Man doesn’t sound neat? Iron Man is awesome, Bucky; you just don’t know it yet. When are you going to be here with that pizza? I’m starving.”

*

He had been leery of Tony, of _course_ he had, and with this Steve mess now he had even more reason to be suspicious. _Don’t apologize for your discomfort_. Those had been the key words Bucky hadn’t known he had been looking for but as soon as Tony said them he had relaxed some. He had needed it too, as panicked as he was. He had considered calling Phil but he didn’t really want to listen to the lecture the man was sure to have for him plus he had needed to call Tony anyways. It wasn’t his initial intention to have Tony calm him down but the man had an aura about him that Bucky was drawn to, and apparently it still worked when he had half entered panic attack mode too. That was always good information to know, Steve hadn’t ever been much useful during situations like that. Something had always felt… off about his comfort and now Bucky knew what that was.

Always trust your instincts, Riley kept telling him that and apparently Bucky had good instincts. Personally he thought his past indicated otherwise but alright. But he was supposed to start listening to his body more and his body had a thing for Tony, it was the rest of him that was unsure. Of course this was the part where he’d usually ignore what his body was telling him but that always seemed to go horribly so maybe he should try listening for once. Worst come to worst he was wrong again but he was pretty used to that anyways.

He ignores the doubts for now because there was no reason for them and makes his way to Stark Tower. It wasn’t like the building was hard to find, it was the highest in its area. People claimed that was because Tony had an ego but Bucky wasn’t totally sold on that argument. Sure he had a quiet arrogance about him but from what Bucky had researched it wasn’t entirely unfounded. It wasn’t really arrogance when he wasn’t overestimating himself, plus the building looked cool despite what Steve thought of it. He couldn’t believe Steve thought the modern looking building was _ugly_. Bucky had a lot of words for it, like how the hell did it not fall over in strong winds, but not unattractive. Steve had no taste, why the hell else would he love Bucky? Damaged goods weren’t of much use, Brock might have been an ass but he was right about that. The good news was that Tony must be damaged too considering they met in therapy of all things. Maybe he would understand in ways that other people didn’t, like Phil did.

Regardless of how this may or may not work out he finds his way to Tony’s building easily and he finds his way to Tony’s office even easier thanks to one Pepper Potts. She was giving him looks and one of those tight lipped smiles he had seen in a few pictures of her with Tony but _yikes_ that was terrifying in person. He didn’t envy the Dom who had to deal with _that_. Personally he’d rather not, thank you. Pepper smiles at him and opens the door to Tony’s office and the fact that she hadn’t said a word the whole time was both disconcerting and relieving at the same time. On the plus side there was no small talk, on the downside he was certain Pepper Potts was planning his death.

Tony looks up and all Bucky can see are his eyeballs. Shit, he hadn’t been kidding about the paperwork. “Don’t look so horrified, half of this is done,” he says and the corners of his eyes crinkle a little, indicating that he was smiling.

Pepper comes rushing in, nearly running Bucky over, and she scoops up the files that… Bucky didn’t know how she knew they were the completed ones. He didn’t even know how she heard that comment to come running in to take the files. Pepper Potts is a terrifying enigma and he never wanted to deal with her again. “She give you the silent treatment on the way up?” Tony asks in response to Bucky’s horrified expression.

“Yeah… she’s scary. Is she _supposed_ to be that scary?” he asks. She was Tony’s personal assistant, were personal assistants supposed to be frightening in any capacity? He didn’t think so but to be fair he’s never met a personal assistant so.

“Nah, but her ability to scare the hell out of people by smiling at them is so useful. You should meet her Dom; Nat takes the scary smile thing to a whole new level. I’m fully convinced that they could take over the world together if they tried,” Tony says and yeah, Bucky was already under the impression Pepper could do that herself never mind her Dom. “Don’t be scared off though, if she spoke it would have been worse,” Tony tells him and he smiles the shit.

“I don’t think my imminent death is a matter deserving of a smile, thank you,” Bucky says and Tony snorts out a laugh.

“Nah, Pep’s more creative than that. You’ll live, you just won’t want to,” Tony says as if that was any more comforting.

“That was the opposite of helpful but thanks for that nightmare inducing statement,” Bucky says, throwing himself in one of the chairs that sat opposite to Tony’s desk.

“And people claim _I’m_ melodramatic. Now pass that pizza I’m dying of starvation over here,” Tony says, extending his hands over the desk and eyeing the pizza Bucky forgot he was holding hungrily. For a moment Bucky wasn’t sure Tony was serious but after deciding he must be he snorts and passes the box over.

“People think you’re melodramatic because you _are_ melodramatic,” Bucky tells him. Tony practically devours an entire pizza slice whole and it contrasts to badly with his expensive suit that Bucky laughs. The last thing he expected was the guy in Gucci to devour pizza slices whole. It was a good look though, Tony in a suit. And the red tie was honestly a lovely touch, very Tony Bucky thought. The bright strip of color against the dark suit stood out and Bucky surprised himself by wanting that tie around his wrists. Bondage sort of fell out of favor when Brock did, too little control was left to him and then he tended to do the freaking out thing. That wasn’t exactly what people were going for in a scene unless it was negotiated so he tended to avoid bondage now. But that tie would look so pretty around his wrists and- and he better eat some of that pizza before Tony left him only crumbs and a half a peperoni. “Leave me some, asshole,” Bucky says, snatching the slice Tony was about to stuff in his mouth.

“Hey,” Tony says, offended, “I wanted that one. And I am _not_ melodramatic, I am just dramatic enough thank you.” Bucky raises an eyebrow at that but Tony looks entirely unrepentant. They eat in comfortable silence and Tony desecrates that beautiful suit by wiping _pizza fingers_ on it. Bucky decides that Tony should never be left to his own devices ever because he was clearly a savage. Tony looks unrepentant about that too and no one should have so much money they don’t worry about running a suit that probably cost more than everything Bucky owned.

“I can’t believe you wiped _pizza fingers_ on that suit,” Bucky says finally, unable to keep that in. he had tried reading the book he had gotten earlier from the library but he couldn’t concentrate knowing Tony wiped pizza grease on his pants.

“That’s what dry cleaning is for, honeybee, relax,” he says, eyes flicking up from his file. He gives Bucky just a hint of a smile and for a second Bucky forgets about Tony ruining his suit.

Thankfully he wasn’t a total twit and he regains control over himself, “napkins, Stark, are for pizza fingers, not _suits_. I can’t even believe you would consider ruining that suit with pizza grease, who does that?” he asks, giving Tony’s hands a look of distain.

“I do that. And you didn’t bring napkins. Plus bad manners piss off the business execs so I sort of got into the habit of behaving badly with food. And again, dry cleaning, Pepper found this great place that get any stain out of any material and honestly I am impressed. I’ve got some weird shit on my clothing and it always comes back in pristine condition,” Tony says, smoothing that pretty tie with his fingers and Bucky is deeply offended.

“You should not be left to your own devices, wiping pizza fingers on suits because you have a good dry cleaning place. They probably think you’re a barbarian,” Bucky says.

“They do, Pep’s told me. Granted on that particular occasion they had every right to assume I was a barbarian because… well you have an active imagination I’m sure, you can but two and two together. So what are you reading, exactly?” Tony asks, nodding to the book he was holding.

“Oh, some stuff about witchcraft. Demonology actually,” Bucky admits somewhat hesitantly. This was his go-to subject when he didn’t want anyone to talk to him. He loved history as a whole but witch trials were especially interesting to him, fortunately people found reading about demonology just a bit weird. Hence this being his go-to subject in a bad mood, if people came up to him he could tell them that he was reading about demonology and nine times out of ten he’d get a look and the person would walk away.

“Remember when you said you were boring? Well Bucky, we have some _very_ different definitions of boring if you read demonology in your spare time. Tell me more, I’m curious,” Tony says, leaning forward in genuine interest. And apparently Tony was the tenth person who thought that Bucky must be interesting if he read a subject like this in his spare time. Well, thankfully in this case he actually wanted to have a conversation with the person who was curious so he smiles just a bit, prepared to give Tony a lecture on general witchcraft beliefs in the Middle Ages.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wrote this really sleep deprived so forgive me. If there's any mistakes let me know and I'll hunt those suckers down. 
> 
> Anyways I hope you enjoy :)

“Gender seems like a bizarre thing to care about, you know?” Weasel says, turning to face Bucky. Lying on the ground in a seedy bar was a horrible idea but he and Weasel didn’t want to clean and Wade started this weird tradition of diving on the floor when he didn’t want to work. Now it was a thing they did at the end of every night and the last person down had to clean, but the other two had to stay on the ground the whole time. Wade claimed everyone suffered that way and honestly he was right. Bucky could feel the liquid on the floor seeping into his clothing and truth be told he had no idea what it was. Could be water, alcohol, piss, blood, it was a real toss up in a place that was called Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children.

“I have no real explanation as to why I’m bisexual I just am,” Bucky says and Weasel looks confused.

“But why care though? Why does that _matter_? I feel like you should just not want to murder the person you’re dating and not murdering people is genderless,” he says.

“Agreed,” Wade yells from across the bar.

“Fuck off pisslord,” Weasel yells back, “but seriously, he has a point.”

“Look man, I don’t know what to tell ya. I mean I agree honestly, but here I am, the bisexual. I mean like maybe I’ll turn out to be pansexual and I just haven’t had an opportunity to find that out yet. Or maybe I’ll end up a basement dwelling hermit that hisses at the sunlight, who knows.” His bet was on basement dweller because Phil thought it was amusing to only find basement apartments. It amused Clint and Bucky got the feeling he wasn’t in on the joke. This was Phil and Clint though, they made weird cleaning jokes that they found amusing.

“You’re going to die alone. Don’t get me wrong, we all love you, but you’re one fucked up dude,” Weasel says bluntly. That had taken some getting used to, Weasel’s over-the-top bluntness. Wade too really, but they both meant well even if they were being giant assholes about it.

“If Wade managed to score two Doms I can find one,” he counters, “and lets be real here, you managed to get _married_. If there’s hope for your sorry ass there’s hope for me.” Weasel ran a bar called _Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children_ for fucks sakes, if he managed to find someone willing to spend the rest of his life with someone so can Bucky. It wasn’t like it had to be a romantic deal though he wasn’t making a lack of contract mistake ever again. To be fair he could always settle with Steve, he wasn’t so bad even if Bucky would never get past that one time Steve got rectal bleeding when he was ten and Bucky freaked out so bad he thought Steve got his period. Wrong anatomy for that but hey, it was a funny story for his mom to tell at family gatherings. Personally Bucky thought he did pretty well considering the highly unusual situation, it wasn’t like ass bleeds were _normal_ , his solution was perfectly logical all things considered.

“Oh man, that’s true and I don’t even know how I managed. Seriously, a high-powered lawyer who’s drop dead gorgeous who also showed interest in me? I had to put a ring on that before she realized I’m the scum of the earth and she deserves so much better. I don’t know how Wade managed either, Vanessa was practically made in a computer and Peter is like… edible,” Weasel says, frowning and tilting his head to the side like he was trying to figure out the logistics. Bucky was confused too, Weasel’s wife really did settle hard but she seemed happy to no one said anything, least of all Weasel. He might act like a giant asshole but he really did love his wife and he did genuinely care about his friends.

“It’s true, we’re some lucky fuckers, but you have shit luck so you’re fucked,” Wade tells him, grinning.

“You guys are assholes who do not know what encouragement is,” Bucky mumbles.

“Hey man, you ever want a good lay my wife and I are always down to play and you are _hot_ ,” Weasel says and wiggles his eyebrows.

“Me too man, Vanessa and I could talk Peter into it,” Wade yells to them.

“Bunch of fucking savages, the pair of you. I’d also like to remind you that I have been on like three dates recently and I could always just decide Steve will do.” He tries to imagine himself kissing Steve and instead he remembers that time he decided he was going to harass some school bully and ended up getting punched out and chipping a tooth. Joke was on the bully, Steve bit the hell out of him and _that_ was a story to explain to the teacher. Bucky is pretty sure that guy was into biting now and that freaked him out a little. So he lied about Steve, they were never meant to have a romantic relationship and he had _no clue_ where Steve got so mixed up. They were bros, they pretended to be dinosaurs at three a.m even though they were full grown men who weren’t supposed to do things like that, not… not romantic partners. Not that Tony wouldn’t pretend to be a dino at three a.m, Bucky was sure he would.

“Do not settle for Steve, you two would be shit together romantically. You’re platonic soul mates, don’t fuck with that,” Weasel says, “that’d be like me getting with Wade. Sure we’ve traded some sloppy blowjobs and a weird drunken handie but we were never meant to do the romance thing. We’re bros, we know that you gotta keep that sacred.”

“Too late, Steve’s in love with me and I ran away from home and I don’t want to go back because that means hard conversations and I’d rather lay in whatever liquid is on this god forsaken floor,” Bucky says, sighing. He probably should have had all these conversations _before_ this but hey, whatever. No one would ever claim Bucky did anything the easy way.

“Told you that you were destined to die alone,” Weasel says.

“Ok but in Bucky’s defense that was Steve’s fault, gotta give a dude credit where it’s due. Plus who wouldn’t want to go on a date with _Tony Stark_ ,” Wade says, grinning excitedly over Bucky’s body. First off, creepy, and second, how the hell did Wade manage to walk around without making noise?

“How did you even know about that?” Bucky asks.

“I have good observation skills and maybe stalked you the other night but strictly for safety purposes,” Wade says.

“Pretty sure becoming a stalker negates the safety thing, dude,” Weasel points out.

“I agree. See anything hinky?” Bucky asks.

*

Tony sits in the hot seat saying and doing nothing because therapy wasn’t for him, he’s _told_ people this but here he is. This was mostly for Pepper’s benefit anyways, she worried about him and Natasha spent an entire night whining at him about it. It was easier to just go and pretend to do things for an hour and leave.

“You were talkative last week,” Riley points out after a few moments.

“Last week was last week. This week is a new week and I’m a different person, and I don’t feel like talking,” he says flippantly. It never went well anyways, someone always managed to get on his good side and then it all went to hell in a hand basket. It happened damn near every time he opened up to someone minus Pepper and Rhodey most of the time. He would tell someone something was wrong and then they would try and fix him by trying to change everything about him. Usually though invasive methods so it was safe to say he was not fond of the medical profession as a whole, nor was he overly fond of making deep connections. You never knew who was going to end up the type to assume you were wrong for existing in a way they didn’t understand.

“Do you do this a lot?” Riley asks.

“Do what a lot?” Tony could do this all say, answering questions with questions, talking without saying anything at all. He got good at this kind of thing long ago, playing ‘who breaks first’ with some asshole who thought they wanted to know everything there was to know about Tony only to find out that they were actually more comfortable never having their precious ideals challenged.

“Is there a reason you’re looking at me like this is a competition and you’re about to win it?” Riley asks and that throws Tony for a loop for a moment. Usually in these situations they were invested in the competition too but Riley was… not uninterested but he didn’t look like he was about to start playing games and Tony didn’t know what to do with that. “Is this something you’re used to, competitions of some sort with medical professionals? It certainly sounds like your last therapist was more interested in pushing his own agenda rather than discussing any issues you might have.”

Any issues he _might_ have, shit, Riley isn’t a fucking moron, they both know Tony has more problems than a math test. “They all are,” is all Tony says because in his experience that was true.

Riley lifts a brow, “I take it that’s your main experience with medical professionals then?” he asks.

“It’s my only experience actually so if we could cut the ‘I genuinely care about you’ bullshit and get straight to the part where you give me like fifty diagnoses and shit ton prescriptions I’ll never touch that’d be great.” Maybe a little too blunt but it got straight to the heart of things real quick. No stupid social rules, no stupid dancing around the subject, just cut to the chase and then Tony could get out of here and proclaim therapy a failure. It was bound to happen sooner or later anyways.

“Pills aren’t going to fix your problems, Tony. And I get the impression that the things people were trying to fix about you weren’t problems anyways. I’d like to tell you that not all medical professionals are awful people but that doesn’t really matter to you, does it? And why would it, if all I ever experienced was bad from a group of people I wouldn’t like them much either. It’s natural to be suspicious of a group of people that use violence against you as a method of control, especially when those people are supposed to help,” Riley says.

Tony doesn’t know what to do with that because he’s never had anyone tell him that his suspicion was warranted, that it was _natural_. He’s also never met anyone that described his experiences as violent either and that had always unsettled him, the ‘I’m not like that’ narrative. It was Tony’s number one clue that they _were_ like that, no one who was different needed to tell you that they were different. They would be horrified at your treatment and then they would help if they could. Instead Tony got shuffled off from one self-righteous jackass to the next all in the name of making him right when he was never the one that was wrong.

He relaxes a little.

*

Rhodey throws himself into the seat across from him and gives him an exhausted look. Tony raises an eyebrow because Rhodey had been back in America for less than forty-eight hours so Tony had no clue what would make him so tired in such a short time. He’d guess jet leg but the look on Rhodey’s face was different than that.

“You remember that whole deal last year with making vets do therapy and shit right?” Rhodey asks and Tony scoffs.

“Oh fuck you, if I have to do therapy and shit so do you. And yes, I remember, it’s kind of a good thing so long as your professionals don’t suck ass,” which he doubts but he doesn’t say that. Mental health was a bit thing with soldiers and Rhodey had more distrust in the services than Tony did. He resented that sometimes, Rhodey’s suspicion, because it was founded on nothing. He understood the suspicion of course, he was suspicious too, but he spent a good majority of his teen years being poked and prodded at.

Then of course he felt guilty that he was essentially upset that Rhodey hadn’t suffered, at least not like he had. He talked a lot about racism and Tony was sure that any sort of medical and mental health services had a lack of racism but to his knowledge Rhodey hadn’t dealt with that. Why be suspicious of something that may very well help? Because people sucked was the answer but it didn’t make Tony feel any less irritated or any less guilty. Rhodey shouldn’t need to suffer to be suspicious, but if he hadn’t suffered why be suspicious? He didn’t have an answer and that pissed him off, he’s a genius, he should be able to sort his damn thoughts.

“You have more problems than a math test, your ass needs therapy. I, on the other hand, am a well-adjusted individual. I do not need to go pour my feelings out like some sorry sap that probably needs meds or something. But the guy, the _guy_ Tony, who even picks these dudes? You can’t throw someone that hot in the middle of the room and expect me to want to do _therapy_. I mean there were lots of things I wanted to talk about but none of them were feelings, at least not the therapy kind,” Rhodey jokes.

Tony huffs out a laugh and it even sounds genuine. He wonders if Rhodey realizes he just implied that Tony was a maladjusted sorry sap who needed meds to fix his problems. Probably not and Tony couldn’t even be mad because it was true, it wasn’t like he could blame Rhodey for being right. “Anyone I know?” he asks with a grin that almost felt real. He was good at this game too, playing the happy friend even if he wasn’t really happy.

“Probably, you’ve gone though basically every therapist in New York. You know a Sam Wilson?” he asks. Rhodey clearly doesn’t realize what he just said and he seems even more clueless as to how that was bound to make Tony feel so Tony keeps his mouth shut.

“I do actually,” he admits somewhat reluctantly, “pretty mice guy from what I remember. Isn’t he a sub though?” he asks. Not that he would have a problem with Rhodey being interested in another sub, he was hardly one to judge, but this would be new for him.

“Oh man please don’t tell me he’d your therapist,” Rhodey says, wrinkling his nose. “And nah, he’s a switch I’m pretty sure.”

Hmmm. He played the sub card well than, and he must play the Dom card just as well if Rhodey was gushing about the guy, Rhodey wasn’t the gushing type unless it was Star Trek. “No he’s not my therapist, he recommended me to my current therapist. And he does have a freakishly nice face,” Tony says. Tony would so go there if it wasn’t for you know, therapy with the guy that one time. But at least there would be no awkward ‘I’m biologically a sub’ deal, which was a nice bonus with Bucky. No need to go out of his way to keep a secret, he was a terrible liar anyways. Well, at least when it came to that.

When he was lying about his feelings he did just fine, it was keeping secrets everywhere else that was a problem. It didn’t help that he thought social rules were dumb and made no sense half the time. People told you to be open and honest with friends and then got freaked out when being open and honest meant pointing out an unpleasant truth. It was hardly his fault if something looked bad, why would he not say something? And how the hell was he supposed to know when being open and honest was supposed to be a thing and when to use useless euphemisms? This was why he liked contracts, then everyone knew exactly what was going on at all times and if they didn’t it was literally mandatory to be straight up blunt about the problem and how to fix it. Problem solved.

“See? You have seen basically every therapist in New York. This one give up on you yet or is he hanging on?” Rhodey asks rather insensitively. “And Sam does have a freakishly nice face, he should have starred in action movies or something. It is a disservice to not put that face on a big screen.”

“The therapist is still hanging on,” Tony says in a dull tone, “and yeah, Sam does have some pretty cheekbones. And a nice smile.” He was also very approachable and that was saying something coming from Tony.

“Well don’t worry, he’ll give up eventually, they all do. So anyways,” Rhodey says and he continues to go on some rant about Sam Tony doesn’t pay much attention to. But now he knew Rhodey well enough to know what faces he made when he expected certain reactions from Tony so he didn’t have to work hard to make Rhodey think he was listening. He wasn’t trying to be an asshole, all Tony’s therapists _did_ give up on him, the truth shouldn’t hurt as much as it did.

But for once he just wanted to feel like he wasn’t a lost cause that no one would ever be able to deal with ever. He probably was though so he doesn’t say anything, after all it’d be pretty hypocritical to want people to be blunt and say what they mean and then get offended when people did that. His phone buzzes and he finds a text from Bucky.

_Gunna fuckin kill Weasel_

_My boss, not a legit weasel_

_Weasels are innocent but Weasel can eat shit_

_He put me in the dead pool!_

_Fucker’s goin in the dead pool next week_

Tony snorts as the texts keep coming in, giving him a short story about some dude named after an animal betting on Bucky to die that week. And the retaliation to this was to survive the week and kill Weasel next week.

_Dude_

_How the fuck are you boring?_

_You’re so not boring_

_You’re literally planning to murder your boss_

_Want ideas?_

Rhodey notices his texting but he knows that Tony is more than good at multitasking so he doesn’t say anything. Truthfully Tony wanted to know where the hell Bucky worked to have a dead pool. He also wanted to know if this was at all related to his friend Wade’s stripper name because he so wanted to know if any necrophilia kinks were involved so he could bail now. Pulses were required for his pleasure purposes.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to lament about the name of this fucking fic for life. _I Don't Care_? Seriously? I am a dumb. That's the dumbest name ever. 
> 
> Anyways some warnings for this chapter are: past abusive relationships (Rumlow and Bucky), Steve's misguided attempt at doing good going very, very wrong, Obadiah being a creep, and a little bit of terrorism via old Stark weaponry. I think that's everything, if not just let me know and I'll add to this list.

Bucky stands in front of the door to Steve’s apartment, it was hard to think of it as his home too now, with no real interest of going inside. But he had to at least pretend he was organizing things and stuff. He had some money saved, barely, but it would probably be enough for first and last so he could at least move out and figure shit out elsewhere. After a few minutes of deliberation he almost turns to leave but Steve decides to open that door at that exact moment, his face lighting up when he finds Bucky there. “Bucky, you’re back, thank god I had no clue where you went and Phil refused to say anything and-”

“I’m moving out,” he says bluntly, “I’m just here to get all my stuff together before I find a place and go.” There, it was out, he didn’t have to worry about ripping the damn metaphorical Band-Aid off now.

Steve’s face falls and Bucky doesn’t want to feel guilty, _shouldn’t_ feel guilty, but he does. “Oh,” he says quietly, “okay then. Umm, I have something for you then,” he says and he retreats into the apartment. Bucky follows reluctantly because he sort of needed to go in anyways because all his stuff was here and he needed to organize it before moving out. And thankfully Phil stopped looking at creepy basement apartments so he might actually live somewhere decent. Granted on his budget he wasn’t going to be living anywhere spectacular but it was better than awkwardly living with Steve.

Steve disappears into his room and comes out with a thick envelope before handing to Bucky. He hands the envelope right back, “I don’t want your money, I have my own,” he says in a tone that might have been snippier than strictly necessary.

“It isn’t my money, it’s your half of the rent. I set the money aside for you and just paid it myself in case you ever decided to go back to school,” Steve admits quietly.

The notion that Steve had gone out of his way to lie to Bucky about his share in the bills, regardless of his good intentions, made Bucky’s blood boil. It was a Dom thing to do and Steve fucking knew it, and instead of _talking_ to Bucky about it he decided to just keep shit to himself.  
“Thanks,” he snaps, snatching the envelope back and working to move around Steve so he could just get his shit in order and go. Phil and Clint were nice enough to house him at the moment and he was intent on going back there as fast as possible.

“Bucky,” Steve says and he tries to reach out to Bucky but he pulls away before Steve managed to get a grip on him.

“Don’t you ‘Bucky’ me, Steve, this is wrong and you know it. You purposefully went out of your way to act as much like my Dom as you could without telling me out of some misguided hope that I might love you one day. That isn’t okay; actually it’s actively creepy. You don’t get to pull this shit and you know that, you’d _never_ do this with anyone else and I have no idea how to take that,” he says. Did he just have ‘victim’ fucking tattooed onto his forehead or something? Or pushover or some other thing like that? Because Steve was always good about his Dom practices and for some reason he threw that all out because… why? Because Bucky is a sucker or something?

 _You can make your own decisions when you’re capable and considering you’re a fucking idiot that’ll be never_. He can’t help but remember Brock’s words and wondering if, on some level, Steve agreed with them. Why else would he go so far out of the way to make sure Bucky didn’t have any choice? It made sense he guessed, and Bucky has never been the most sensible decision maker in the world, Brock wasn’t _wrong_ really.

“Bucky-” Steve tries again but Bucky flees, not wanting to hear that his best and oldest friend thought he was an idiot incapable of making his own decisions. Clearly it was true; every decision he’s ever made had turned into a fucking disaster. Including the one where he decided that trusting Steve with at least some of his biological needs was a reasonable thing to do.

*

It took effort but she, Obadiah, and Tony managed to settle business overseas, just in time to get stuck going to some terrible gala in which Pepper would be trailing around after Tony to smooth over his messes. He was better suited to the behind the scenes work but Obadiah _insisted_ on shoving him as far into the light as possible in the name of learning the business. Pepper thought he had an ulterior motive but she didn’t have evidence to back that up, nor could she state a reason why ‘learning the business’ would be a bad thing. Tony responded well to what he considered logical arguments, if something seemed questionable to him he had a habit of just tuning out of the conversation. It was as useful as it was irritating. Actually that was a lie, it was more irritating than anything.

Regardless it left her going around smoothing over Tony’s brash attitude so he didn’t lose business with his inability to learn social rules. One of the things Tony decided he didn’t need to listen to because he found the rules stupid, it’s gotten him into trouble more than once. Thankfully there were other rules that Tony _did_ find use for and made strict efforts to stick to, namely anything regarding sex or whatever BDSM practices he might be into. Pepper already knew far too much about him on that front than she would like, more so if someone raised a fuss in an attempt to get money. He followed the contracts he made to a tee always, which was a damn blessing given the man’s long list of one-night stands.

She hoped with Bucky around he might resist picking someone up at the damn gala because she didn’t feel like smoothing that over too. If Tony ever learned tact she would be eternally grateful because it would save her so much trouble. The only saving grace to this whole thing was that Natasha was around to go with her. It would make things at least slightly more bearable for her, even if she would have to compensate for Natasha’s lack of social skills. Oh, she could fake it well, but unless Natasha was taking on an entirely new persona she had awful social skills. She was naturally a bit goofy, relying on sharp wit and humor that not everyone understood and her general inability to connect easily to her peers in upscale social settings was glaringly obvious. She and Tony got along famously though, ignoring all the social rules and making inappropriate bets. Sometimes Pepper wished Natasha would fake it in these situations but most of the time she was just happy to have Natasha around.

Work took up a lot of time for both of them so when they had time together Pepper did her best to enjoy it, even if she had to drag Natasha and Tony away from the bar. Shots were not a thing you were allowed to do at a gala and they’d both do it just to prove they could out drink the other. Natasha, at least, retained self-control while drunk but Tony was just more of himself, namely a loud, brash asshole. Pepper would do without fielding that media mess, thank you. She loved them both anyways, even if she had to work double time to cover their asses.

Natasha exits the shower looking refreshed like usual, at least until she saw the dress Pepper had picked out for her on the bed. For a moment Pepper flounders because there was no way she could manage to kneel in this dress or the shoes she was wearing but she settles for sitting on the edge of their bed, head bowed as Natasha inspected her outfit. She was nervous, Natasha loathed being doted on, and she hated formal wear even more. Both were things Pepper was fond of but Natasha was not the type with a preference for a service sub. Fortunately Tony needed someone who organized everything in his life so Pepper let most of that instinct to organize and serve there and Natasha was fine with it. Thankful for it, actually, as she had explained to Pepper once. Whatever it was that happened to her in her childhood it made her overly self-sufficient and now she had a difficult time accepting help.

Sometimes she would allow Pepper to do small things though, like choosing an outfit for her given that she was painfully inept at matching things. She usually either wore red or black because she knew both looked fine on her. Occasionally, when she came home bruised and damaged, she would let Pepper clean the wounds. It was intimate, Natasha letting Pepper in like this, and a relatively new part of their relationship. Natasha tended to restrict play to the bedroom when she was at her wits end and her instinct to act as someone’s Dom was taking over but she was trying to extend that some for Pepper. It was difficult work, their negotiations, Natasha was not open to most of the things Pepper wanted but every once in awhile Pepper would get her way and she’d patch a wound or pick out some clothing.

“Green?” Natasha says and Pepper can feel her inspecting the dress. She should have anticipated Natasha questioning a choice that went outside her regular choice of black, black, and maybe red with some more black. For a moment she questions her choice but no, she was the authority on these things, Natasha had no fashion sense. If she was allowed to wear her bunny onesie everywhere she would, clearly Pepper knew best.

“To match your eyes,” Pepper explains. If she was just _open_ to trying colors she would have such a pretty wardrobe but no, Natasha was perpetually prepared to attend a funeral.

“Well alright, you know about these things. How the hell do I put this thing on?” she asks and Pepper sighs.

“Usually you put your head through the head hole and your arms go out to the side,” Pepper quips, earning a disapproving tongue click from Natasha.

“Sarcasm, pet, watch it,” she warns but there’s no malice behind the statement. Pepper smiles to herself as Natasha picks up the dress and more so when Natasha’s inevitable noise of frustration comes with a request to rescue her from her wardrobe. Pepper is happy to help of course, detangling her Dom from a dress that really was too simple for Natasha to have gotten caught in but here they were.

They meet Tony at the gala and he’s looking mostly fine, minus the stain on the bottom of his tie. No one would notice, the stain was barely noticeable, but it was going to irritate her for the rest of the night. “Ten bucks says I end up drunk and naked in that fountain,” Tony says, pointing to the tacky fountain in the middle of the room. This was for some charity thing and there was a fountain indoors, clearly the money was being well spent.

“You best not end up drunk and in that fountain, I’ll leave you there to drown,” Pepper tells him.

“Aww come on Pep, it’ll be the only fun I’ll have tonight,” Tony whines, pouting at her.

“I’ll buy your drinks and get you some bubbles for extra fun,” Natasha says excitedly.

“Oh not you too, don’t encourage him, he’ll do something dumb and then I’ll have to deal with the press tomorrow. You _do_ want me home for dinner, don’t you?” she asks sweetly.

Natasha pretends to think about it, “well on one hand I have some plans for chocolate covered strawberries that I would need you for, but on the other I could relax while drinking perfectly chilled vodka in my bunny onesie with Chinese. Don’t look so offended dear, I can drink the vodka in my onesie with the you too. I suppose I’ll keep from aiding Stark in his Idiot Adventures tonight,” she says. Pepper would love to tell her to leave that god-awful onesie at the door but it wasn’t her place to tell Natasha what to wear, not when she wasn’t asked for her opinion.

“If you could resist every other time that would be appreciated,” Pepper says instead. The two got into a considerable amount of trouble with each other, each egging the other on and between Tony’s absurd plans and Natasha’s intelligence some strange things have happened. Like Christmas in July in the middle of Stark Industries foyer, there was even snow and presents to top everything off.

“Oh but that time we rented the ski resort was fun, Tony skied right into a tree,” she says, snickering.

“Uh, excuse you, I was misdirected into that tree, and it came out of nowhere. That was a fluke,” Tony says, sticking to his story after all these years.

“Just admit that you can’t ski, Stark, no shame. Except for the shame you got when you ran directly into a tree,” Natasha reminds him.

“Misdirected, and I _can_ ski, that tree was just… teleporting or something,” Tony says, waving a hand around.

“Trees don’t teleport,” Natasha says.

“Do so, I’ve made one,” Tony tells her, nose in the air.

“Only to prove me wrong if we ever had this argument again,” Natasha says, “that doesn’t count.”

“Well you can’t argue that they don’t teleport or that it’s impossible because it isn’t, I’ve made a teleporting tree so ha.” They continue to bicker and Pepper rolls her eyes fondly as they outline old arguments. Eventually someone interrupts to drag Tony away, which he looks considerably upset with, but he goes off anyways for the sake of business.

She makes sure to follow around, smoothing over Tony’s wrinkles while Natasha ran off to do whatever. Probably hide in the bathroom or something, she disliked these events more than Tony, but she was supportive so she came to them with Pepper every once and awhile. Plus she liked the finger foods. Maybe she was hiding in the kitchen harassing the wait staff again. Things go generally well until Obadiah decides to make his slimy presence known and Pepper resists the urge to look disgusted or flee the scene.

“How’s it going Pep, anything I should know about?” he asks. Anything stupid Tony has said or done, he means, and no. Tony was on his best behavior and he’s only insulted a half a dozen people, most of them to their faces. Repeatedly. Pepper was more irritated with the Obadiah using her nickname though because Tony was counted on to be a socially inept ass, Obadiah had no business acting as if they were anything more than tentative colleagues.

“He’s been doing well and I’ve been dealing with the rest,” she says curtly. She spies Tony from across the room and he looks harassed. Some blonde was shoving pictures in his face with more aggression than passion. Pepper would go off to handle that too but Obadiah reaches out to hold her back.

“You sure, he has a penchant for being a bit… blunt,” Obadiah says, going with a soft euphemism. Brutally honest is what Tony is, he can’t stand people who claimed they were experts when they weren’t and he made it his personal mission to verbally shred them. Justin Hammer was frequently a victim of this though Pepper couldn’t bring herself to feel bad for the sleeze ball. Tony leans towards the blonde woman, seemingly interested in the conversation but he doesn’t look comfortable, his body language is… urgent. The blonde looks surprised.

She doesn’t even realize that she had moved to go help Tony until Obadiah’s grip gets tighter, holding her in place. She would have gladly told him where to put that hand but Natasha appears then, smacking Obadiah’s hand away viciously, “keep your filthy paws off her,” she snarls. Obadiah looks shocked, maybe at the ferocity of Natasha’s words or at least Pepper hoped so. She disliked the man and she swore sometimes he went out of his way to make her uncomfortable as a show of dominance. He did it with Tony too but he refused to be cowed by the man. Pepper had a more difficult time smacking the man down because she wanted to know why she had to do such a thing to begin with- what was his endgame here? Why go out of his way to make her feel uncomfortable, or Tony for that matter. Tony didn’t care, he just wanted things to go his way and for Obadiah to shut up.

Obadiah seems to regain his dignity some and he turns back to Pepper, seemingly intent on ignoring Natasha. Bad move, Pepper thinks. “You will remove your eyes from my sub or I will remove your eyes from their sockets,” Natasha says, a hint of danger and seriousness underscoring her tone. Pepper smiles at Natasha’s protectiveness.

*

Tony examines the pictures Christine gave him, Rhodey standing by for a second opinion. He was almost as much of an expert on Tony’s weapons as Tony was himself and right now he needed Rhodey’s more objective opinion. “The spray pattern in the third picture,” Tony says, gesturing to said picture, “it isn’t the same as the these four. Do you see that?” he asks. He really wished the pictures didn’t include dead bodies that were going to haunt his dreams, assuming he even had any. He had a hard time sleeping normally but after incidences like this he slept even less than normal. Generally he worked until he finally passed out to avoid the dreams but that didn’t always work.

Rhodey pulls a couple pictures off the wall and examines them, “yeah, it is. Almost looks like a different weapon did that damage,” he says and thank god. Tony didn’t want to read too much into the situation and Rhodey was helpful in situations like this.

“Or like someone reverse engineered something I built but didn’t quite get it right,” Tony says. He hoped not but this wasn’t the time for optimism, this was a time to accept the worst kind of situations.

After examining the pictures for a few moments Rhodey sets them aside looking worried, “I’d really like to say that isn’t the case but it’s plausible.”

“They didn’t get it right though, it went off a bit too late, off by a half a second, which is why the shrapnel looks like that. The chemical reactions weren’t as exact as mine but they’re far too close for comfort. Any possibility that something I made just malfunctioned?” he asks, considering the only other option here.

“No,” Rhodey says, shaking his head, “I’ve been working with your weapons for almost two decades and I’ve never had anything malfunction on me, not even for a half a second. Not with all the ways you test your weapons, you account for even the slightest thing being off always. It’s what made your weapons so efficient. Whoever managed to reverse engineer your work obviously didn’t account for something but the results are… well we have pictures of the results. What do we do?” he asks.

And this was why Tony loved Rhodey even if he thought Tony was a nut case who needed meds. He was always on Tony’s side, always there when he needed it and always willing to help in any way he knew how. “The fuck if I know, the best we can do is track the weapons I made and hope to hell that we get a lead on what asshole is attempting to recreate my weapons. Well, I mean I’m sure you have some ideas with all your military knowledge and shit but that’s all I’ve got.”

“I can make a few calls, see what comes up. In the meantime I guess we track what we can find and get it the hell out of these warzones. These people have suffered enough without adding weapons as efficient as yours to the mix,” Rhodey says and Tony feels like someone shoved a fire poker down his throat. If he ever managed to make a time machine he was going back in time to kick his own ass for ever being stupid enough to participate in this bullshit. _Weapons_ , not only was that a stupid business, killing people for money, but it wasn’t even a challenge. Making things blow up is fucking child’s play, at no point in his life should he have ever been interested in something so… so… easy. He’s always liked a challenge, something that forced him to think outside the box, forced him to create something new and unheard of. Weapons never allowed him to do that.

The only reason he’d ever been interested was because he was told he needed to carry on a broken legacy. Well fuck that, he was never intended to carry on Howard’s legacy, to accept blood money. He had always been born to make his own legacy, to make sure no one ever thought ‘Howard’ when they heard the name ‘Stark’ and Tony would be damned if he was going to fail in that. That meant getting these goddamn weapons the hell out of the public and disposing of them properly. “JARVIS, find anything traceable on these weapons and let me know what you find,” he says firmly. Rhodey gives him a wary look but he wisely chooses to say nothing. They both knew that whatever worry he had for Tony he wasn’t going to accept it now, not when other people needed that attention more.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Finally just a tad of the BDSM things. More coming soon! I almost didn't include it but I decided last minute that I had waited long enough, damnit.

Phil lets Nick take the lead like always, content to let him do all the work. Truth be told he’s been stressed enough that he didn’t want to pick his own meal anyways. Nick knew what he liked, or at least he should with all the time they used to spend together even before they dated. “How are you?” Nick asks when the waitress scuttles away, shrinking under Nick’s one-eyed glare. It helped that the man wore an eye patch and a black trench coat and then had the audacity to criticize other people for being dramatic.

“You say that like you already know the answer,” Phil says, raising an eyebrow at him. Nick wasn’t a fool, in fact he was highly meticulous, a control freak even, so his presence here had a purpose and Phil knew it. And Nick knew Phil knew that but he appreciated Nick’s attempts at trying to be a normal human for once. In the end it was what drove them apart, their inability to make a balance in their relationship like normal people. Both of them were workaholics and they knew it but Phil was the only one willing to leave his job.

“You miss it,” Nick says, his singular eyebrow raising.

“I like my life the way it is,” Phil says truthfully. He loved Clint, and Clint loved him back, that was more than he ever thought he would get from a relationship.

“That doesn’t mean you don’t miss it, Phil. Don’t shake your head at me, you were never meant to play house husband and service sub, it isn’t what you crave.”

“Nick-” Phil starts but Nick interrupts him, pulling a file from the bag he had brought with him.

“All I need you to do is look at it,” Nick says, sliding the file forward. On one hand Phil is curious but on the other he didn’t want to prove Nick right about his secretly being bored with his life. He was right of course, Phil always has been the adrenaline seeking type and going from international spy work to house work was… well it was boring. The most exciting thing in his life right now was Bucky’s drama and he half hoped it was about to get worse he was so bored, and that was terrible. Poor Bucky was suffering and genuinely overwhelmed right now and Phil was rooting for his life to get worse for a thrill. Last week he half considered going to a seedy area late at night in the hopes someone might try and mug him so he’d get a thrill from _that_. Something told him Clint would not be happy about his choice in thrill-seeking activities. Though after Phil discovered the sorry state the man lived in Clint was in no place to judge. Freezer burritos, enough said.

He stares at the file though because it couldn’t hurt to just _read_ it, that wasn’t a contract after all. It was only a consultation and that was pushing it really, Nick probably just needed some extra eyes and honestly he would be doing his country a favor. It could be a matter of national security, that was important; peoples lives could depend on the information he may pull from that file. Nick slides the folder forward a bit and Phil bites his lip, “just read the damn thing, you know you want to,” Nick says and Phil finally breaks.

“Ten Rings? I thought we got rid of them?” he asks, noting the half covered embalm on a crate in the background of the picture pinned onto the mission report.

“Ten rings?” Nicky echoes, “where the hell did you get that?” he asks. Phil points to the crate and Nick frowns, “I didn’t see that before.”

“I don’t believe that but alright,” Phil says, taking the file back and flipping through the information. It was easy to see where Nick would have gone with the information; the answers were obvious, almost as if they were planned out to a tee to look that way. “But I can see why you’re suspicious anyways, this case is so neatly laid out that it basically has a bow on top.” Too neat of course, any idiot with a half a brain would look at the too-obviously placed clues and come to the conclusion that this was a set up.

“I’m glad you agree, you’re about the only one,” Nick tells him and Phil makes a face.

“You need new agents, this is too easy to be real. Any idiot can see that someone planned this, a damn monkey could do it,” he says. Granted monkeys were rather intelligent animals but Phil didn’t exactly expect them to be able to outdo highly trained agents. Perhaps he misjudged, then.

“I agree, but here we are. You’re one of the best, I figured if you agreed people might stop calling me paranoid,” Nick says.

Phil snorts, “people used to call me your shadow, Nick, I doubt they’ll listen to me more than you. I’m assuming Hill agrees with our assessment?” he asks and Nick nods, “well, no one can deny Hill is good at her job. Besides, you’re the Director, it isn’t as if the agents can go over your head when you _are_ the head so why are you really here?” There, he was getting to the point of this whole thing so he could go before he got roped into taking a job.

“Because you know what you’re doing and I trust your opinion more than a bunch of low-level agents who wouldn’t know a set up if it bit them in the ass. All I need is for you to go over the information-”

“No, I told you that I’m out. I’m not going to be slowly suckered into a job because you don’t like the new agents. Train them better, their idiocy is not my problem, Nick, it’s yours. I’m content with my life just the way it is, I don’t need you to… spice it up or something,” Phil says. Nick sits there the whole time with an unmoving expression while Phil rants and it’s unnerving. He was good at that, finding a person’s weakness and subtly exploiting it. To this day Nick’s punishments for him were the worst he’s ever suffered and all he had to do was tell Phil he had done well when he botched the instructions. How the man had ever become so creative and crafty as to use Phil’s perfectionism as a punishment tactic he had no clue but it made the man a damn good spy. It also made him a rather terrifying Dom, reason two for the breakup. No hard feelings though, except for the ones that came about when Nick inevitably tried to get his favorite spy back.

“You’re perfectly happy with your life, then?” Nick asks, and he actually _does_ ask. He liked to make statements in question form and when the person he was talking to answered him they looked rather stupid. An easy humiliation tactic, one that worked surprisingly well on Doms. Then he’d send in Phil to sweeten them up a little, offer them a deal, salvation. It sounded more genuine coming from a sub and they fell for it every damn time. They were a rather terrifying pair back in the height of their relationship, even more so because it never interfered with the job like everyone else thought it would.

“You say that like it’s a question,” he says, raising an eyebrow.

“It is a question. You used to go nuts if you were at the desk for longer than three days; you’re telling me that you’re perfectly happy playing Stepford Sub working at a temp agency? If you can look me in the eye and tell me that’s true I’ll leave you be,” Nick says. Phil debates on cracking a joke about the eye comment but he leaves it alone, sighing and looking away instead. “That’s what I thought. So come work for me again, as a consultant, all you need to do is look at what I send you and you can do that from home. It wouldn’t even interfere with your playing Stepford Sub,” Nick says.

“First off I am not a Stepford Sub, thank you. God help me Clint is no cookie-cutter trophy husband; he doesn’t even know what broccoli is I swear. And I will _think_ about the offer, I said _think_ Nick, don’t look so victorious. And tell your agents to grow some brain cells, why the hell would Stark stop selling weapons to sell them on the black market? Did anyone even look at the serial codes on the weapons they managed to dig up? They should have manufacturing dates, which should tell you whether or not it was made before Stark stopped selling weapons. And if it isn’t him that selling weapons off than clearly it’s someone else. I cannot believe your agents didn’t see that,” he mumbles. This was a textbook framing, literally, he was certain he read something just like this in the Academy.

*

“I need your advice,” Phil says and Bucky snorts.

“I’m literally the last person you should be going to for advice,” he says. He managed to screw up basically everything he came into contact with and then some. Even his relationship with Steve, the most stable relationship he’s ever had, was now ruined because of something he did. He wasn’t sure what quite yet but he was certain it must have been him to screw it all up; Steve was basically a patron saint.

“Give yourself some credit, Bucky, you’re good at figuring out problems as long as they aren’t your own. Now on to more important subjects, like me,” Phil jokes, smiling just a bit and Bucky can’t help but relax a little. Phil was a very particular kind of man, if he didn’t actually think Bucky would give good advice than he would have never bothered to ask Bucky for it. “Well, not that we’re on the same page here I got offered a job. My old job actually, Nick presented it as paperwork mostly but I know it won’t end there, it never does with him. The man is in a constant state of pushing people as far as he thinks they need to go.”

Phil ends there and Bucky can’t help but feel that was an incomplete run-down of Phil’s current life issues. “Alright then, what’s the problem? Didn’t you love your old job?” he asks. The way Phil talked about it with a wistful look on his face, like he was remembering a fond childhood memory, seemed like a pretty good indication that he liked his job.

“I loved it yes, more than anything else in my life and that was the problem. I woke up one day and realized that I had _nothing_. No home, no friends, no belongings, nothing. I lived out of my office closet and I realized I didn’t want to live that way. I loved my job and if I’m honest I miss it, but I’m afraid that if I go back into that line of work I’ll never get out and actually experience life.”

“But?” Bucky prompts because he knows there’s a ‘but’ coming.

“But I’m _bored_. And it isn’t Clint, I love Clint and I know he loves me, but I’m used to travelling the world and beating people up. Now the most exciting thing in my life is apartment hunting for you and silently hoping you’ll punch Steve for being a thoughtless ass. It hasn’t been an easy adjustment, going from knowing the country’s most top secret things to making sure Clint hasn’t left hair in the sink again,” Phil says. Hell, that sounded boring as hell to Bucky and he hasn’t been a spy at any point in his life. Though he’s seen the weird things that Clint has attempted cooking and that was how Clint had been banned from the kitchen by Phil. The problem with that was that Phil was a worse cook than Clint and his attempts to learn weren’t going well.

“Not gunna lie I vote you go back to being a spy so I can tell people I’m friends with a spy. Also you beat my ex up with a bag of flour and I didn’t even know that could be used as a weapon so I have confidence in your skills,” Bucky says.

Phil rolls his eyes at him, “be serious, Barnes. What am I supposed to do here?”

“I don’t know, it’s your life. Personally I think you should talk to Clint not me, I don’t care if you’re off doing spy things but Clint would. If you chose to pick up your old job it’d probably alter the whole dynamic of your relationship so you’d have to work around all that.” It sounded like more than it was worth to Bucky but he has never been attached to a job like Phil has been so what did he know?

“Why can’t I be a normal person who gets joy from normal things? Yesterday I caught myself half hoping the neighbor’s car would blow up or something for a little fun in my life. But I’m not sure going back to my old job it the solution to that,” he says.

“First off, that’s morbid man. And second, have you tried to compensate in any other ways? Because I feel like that would be the simplest solution here- if you found something new to get your kicks maybe you wouldn’t feel so bored,” Bucky suggests. He should get Phil a job working for Weasel; it was a guaranteed never-a-dull-moment job and sometimes there was punching. There wasn’t paperwork to fill out after either, though the paperwork might actually be a plus for Phil. Bucky has stopped trying to figure the man out and so has Clint to be fair.

“Oh…” Phil says and he stares at Bucky like he just solved his whole dilemma, “that’s such an easy solution! Why didn’t I think of that?” he asks himself more than Bucky.

“Because you were expecting some weirdly complicated one, trust me, I’ve been there.” That was probably why he failed English in school, teachers acting like everything meant something and then Bucky overcomplicated simple narratives. He just started assuming everything was a phallic symbol or something. He hopes that Phil didn’t start assuming everything somehow related to dicks but Bucky figures Phil is smarter than that.

“Great, want to go skydiving?” Phil asks with far too much enthusiasm and a bright smile on his face. Bucky blanches, deciding immediately that he has created a monster.

*

Bucky is on his way to work when he gets a call. He’s half tempted to ignore it in case it was Steve, who had at least been giving him space, but when he checks the caller I.D it’s Tony. “Hey,” he says, smiling into the receiver despite himself. So he liked talking to Tony, liked that someone so… _Tony_ would even look his way. Of course this was countered by a little voice in the back of his mind that was telling him that something was off here, why the hell would Tony Stark be interested in _him_? The guy could have anyone and here he was with _Bucky_ of all people. But that little voice sounded suspiciously like Brock so Bucky ignored it, even if he secretly wondered the same thing.

“Hey yourself, you busy tonight?” he asks, amusement tinting his tone.

“Unfortunately yeah, I have to work and making a living is hard when your boss is trying to kill you. But the patrons like me so they’ll probably kill Wade,” Bucky jokes, “unless you want to pick me up after work but I get off at two a.m, which isn’t really conducive to dates.” At least for the normal person, he’s always been more of a night owl but Steve was an early morning kind of person so he had learned to work around that. Wow, no wonder Steve held out hope for Bucky, he basically organized his entire life around the guy. Well that is an unpleasant realization.

“Hmm. Well if you don’t mind I don’t mind either, I’m more of a night person anyways. Curse of the insomniac,” Tony says, drawing Bucky’s attention back to him.

“Lovely, me too and I personally think everyone who gets up to be a functioning member of society before noon should be shot. Mostly because I am not a functioning member of society but hey, we all have faults. Not much to do at two a.m though, unless we end up at a bar seedier than Weasel’s and that is a true feat,” Bucky says. He wasn’t sure that was actually possible but he was tempted to test it out, Wade would so be happy to do that. Maybe he’d ask Phil too considering the man had a death wish.

“Agreed. Rhodey gets up at like five a.m to start his routine and honestly who even does that? If I weren’t positive he was human I would assume he was a robot. I’ve seen him bleed though so clearly he isn’t a machine, also the only person capable of building something like that is me and I’m fairly certain I would remember building an entire best friend, I mean I remembered JARVIS. And, if you’re comfortable with it, night driving is fun and we probably won’t get an STI that way.” That was fair, Bucky refused to touch anything in Weasel’s bar until he wiped it down first because he didn’t want to contract some weird disease.

“Sounds good actually, it’s been forever since I’ve done that,” he says. The last time was with Steve actually, forever ago, because Bucky had always felt inexplicably safer in the night. It was a good way to get him to open up and talk if he was comfortable with a person, Clint has done that too though he also had a fair amount to share. If Tony thought Bucky was interesting he should meet Clint, the guy grew up in a circus and was deaf. That beat out Bucky’s interest in history.

“Me too, all my friends are freaks who prefer the daylight,” Tony says and Bucky laughs, shaking his head. “So where do you work anyways?” he asks.

“Ever heard of Sister Mary’s School for Wayward Children?” he asks, snickering when Tony expresses his confusion over the name of the bar, mistaking it for an actual school. “Nah, I’m no school teacher, I’m a bar tender,” he says.

“At a bar named ‘Sister Mary’s School for Wayward Children’?” Tony asks and Bucky gives the affirmative, “oh, I have _got_ to see this.”

Weasel tries to kill him no less than three times but Bucky was used to all his tricks by now so he neatly avoids death for another shift. That had been one hell of a shock when he first started working here but thankfully Weasel wasn’t a total ass and he let Bucky adjust before throwing him on the dead pool. Now they all tried to kill each other all the time.

“You’re getting too good at this, we need someone new so we can kill them off and make money,” Weasel tells him, gently shoulder checking him.

“Or we can just wait until you get old and frail and we can bet on you to die,” Bucky counters, grinning.

“Or I can just bring in Blind Al and she definitely won’t be able to fight off the brutes that come here,” Wade suggests, “that’ll make money.”

“She’s going on the dead pool next week, Wade, it’s your job to get her here so we can kill her,” Weasel says. They go on with their plans of killing Blind Al, which nether of them would ever do because she knew how to get the best cocaine, and Bucky goes sits of the floor. Thankfully he had the foresight to bring extra clothes with him today because Phil and Clint also happened to stay up late and he had enough dignity to not want to smell like whatever was on the ground here. When Wade and Weasel realize that Bucky had sat, therefore exempting him from cleaning, they all but dive for the floor in an attempt to get out of cleaning themselves.

“Wade got there first,” Bucky says even though Weasel had landed on the ground a good three seconds before Wade.

“Did not,” Weasel complains.

“Did so, now get cleaning boss,” Wade tells him, grinning. Weasel mumbles about only being made to clean because he put Bucky on the dead pool and Bucky outright confirms it, but rules were rules, Weasel got stuck cleaning. To be fair it wasn’t like Wade and Bucky had it better while they stewed in bar juices on the ground. Thankfully Weasel was also the worst at cleaning so they got out of the bar faster than usual.

“New clothes? Got a hot date,” Wade jokes like he had been for most of the week.

“Actually yeah,” Bucky says and surprise flickers across Wade’s features.

“Stark again?” he asks.

“Mmhm, and don’t go stalking us either, that’s creepy,” Bucky tells him.

“Okay but Vanessa was working and Peter has some weird lab that keeps him at school late. I was bored and I figured keeping a buddy safe was a nice thing to do,” Wade says, giving him what Wade probably thought was a puppy dog face. It was not, he was just pouting uselessly.

“Sure, sure. Keep it to yourself, yeah?” Bucky says, eyebrow raised.

“God damn it Wade, did you whip your dick out again? Cock in pants, man, there are laws for that,” Weasel says. He looks exasperated and Bucky starts laughing, marveling that Weasel has had to tell Wade this enough times that he was annoyed with it.

“You know what, humans are born naked, being in our natural forms should not be illegal! Making being in your natural form illegal should be illegal,” Wade insists. Bucky leaves while he and Weasel argue over nudity laws.

He finds Tony outside looking largely enthused and surprisingly not dead. Bucky has met some reckless people but he has yet to meet someone so stupid as to show up in a crazy bad neighborhood with a fancy sports car. He should introduce Tony to Phil; the two might enjoy having a death wish together. “Hey,” he says, grinning at Tony.

Tony, however, zeroes in on Bucky’s left arm and for a moment he freezes because he generally made an effort to hide the arm but he hadn’t counted on being near anyone new tonight…

“Is that _real_? How does it work?” Tony asks and his face lights up in genuine _delight_ at the sight of the arm. For a second Bucky is unsure but Tony didn’t ask about the accident that caused the need for the arm, he asked about the arm itself and that was far less intimidating.

“Fuck if I know, I don’t do the tech thing,” he says. Tony looks personally offended by the statement, as if Bucky has insulted him at some deep moral level or something.

“That is _insulting_ to such a wonderful piece of work. Who made that?” Tony asks.

“Uhh. Some Vanko or something,” he says. He probably wouldn’t have even remembered the guy if it wasn’t for his being arrested on terrorism charges only a few months after he finished Bucky’s arm.

“Ivan Vanko? A _terrorist_ made you arm?” Tony asks, giving the arm a dubious look.

“Pre-terrorist charge, yeah. Was kind of hoping you wouldn’t make that connection,” Bucky says.

“I would have anyways, Howard stole some designs from his father and Vanko tried to drag me for it when I miniaturized the arc reactor tech. Turns out you can’t charge a man for his dead father’s crimes and my mini was a whole new design so he couldn’t drag me for that either. He tried to make one of his own to prove that I stole that design too but his was totally different. Guy might be an asshole and apparently a terrorist but he’s brilliant,” Tony says, clear admiration in his tone. Bucky raises an eyebrow because he got the feeling Tony didn’t praise people often when it came to intelligence and engineering. Tony confirms as much as they take off, leaving Bucky’s shoddy workplace behind.

*

Tony was no good at the romance thing so it hadn’t occurred to him that watching the sunrise was something you’d watch in a stupid romance movie until it was happening. Bucky was curled up on his side with his head in Tony’s lap and he was running his fingers through Bucky’s silky strands. It was subtle, the dynamics, but it had been so long since Tony has acted as someone’s Dom that the simple action released a surprising amount of tension he hadn’t even known had build up. Bucky must have been left without a Dom for awhile too because he relaxed almost as much as Tony had, all but melting into Tony’s lap. He can’t help but feel just a bit of pride for being the reason for that reaction.

He gently massages Bucky’s scalp and Bucky lets out a small, contented sigh and the remaining tension in his body disappears. Tony grins, feeling inexplicably happy but unwilling to question it.


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gahh, sorry this took so long! I have many an assignment. But hopefully I will be done by mid next week! If I stick to schedule. 
> 
> Alright, so warnings for this chapter, a mention of underaged sex (that I would label dub-con, but it doesn't go into detail or anything) and a slight implication of domestic violence and I think that's it. There's a lil bit of kink negotiation in the end too but I'll outline actual kinks if they're actually present in scenes in a chapter so that it's more specific to the writing. If I missed something let me know! Also part of the kink negotiation happens off-screen, which is sort of alluded to in the end, but y'all should get the basics in further chapters (and feel free to ask questions!)
> 
> Happy reading!

“You need to like _introduce_ me to Sam Wilson,” Rhodey tells him, waggling his eyebrows suggestively.

“I met the guy once in group therapy, what the hell am I supposed to say to him? ‘Here’s my best friend, thankfully he isn’t as fucked up as I am?’ That’ll go well,” Tony says sarcastically.

“Worst. Wingman. _Ever_ ,” Rhodey accuses, “this is worse than all those times you somehow managed to snatch my dates in college when you were a _literal child_.”

Yeah, Tony was about eighty percent sure every single one of those people were pretty fucked up for being perfectly willing to sleep with a fifteen year old despite an age difference that was anywhere from three to ten years. But hey, if Rhodey wanted to overlook that in favor of jealously, alright. “What if I told you I had a sneaking suspicion he has a military kink?” he asks and he kills Rhodey’s excitement immediately.

“You suck,” Rhodey tells him, glaring at him as he leaves Tony’s lab. He loved Rhodey, really, but sometimes a man just wanted to be left alone with his machines for a little while.

“Oh god Dummy put that down!” he yells as the bot picks up a highly experimental explosive that wasn’t meant to be tipped and shakes it. The bot spooks and drops the damn explosive and Tony flinches, expecting to die at any moment because his idiot bot didn’t stay out of the restricted area. Thankfully he doesn’t die so he tosses a wrench at Dummy’s claw, “you idiot, you see the tape you just ran over? That was the starts or the restricted area, yeah, that’s right, you wheel your ass out of there in shame. Yeah, go sit on your charge pad before you kill me fucking around,” he snaps, half tempted to throw another wrench because the first one missed.

He missed Rhodey already, he would know not to go messing around in the restricted area.

*

Phil is shockingly efficient so he manages to find Bucky a good apartment in a decent neighborhood for cheap, and he manages to get all this stuff from Steve too. The world should be afraid of Phil Coulson. “Damn, how do you even manage to _do_ shit like this?” Clint asks, looking around at an already unpacked apartment.

“I have skills,” Phil tells him, grinning.

Clint shakes his head, “oh man, you’ve let him in, good luck getting him out. I brought him home one whole time and I haven’t managed to kick him out ever since,” Clint warns, teasing Phil lightly.

“Oh please, you wanted me there. And even if you didn’t you need a live in maid to deal with your mess, honestly, you were perfectly fine with your underwear all over the floor and Lucky sleeps on the floor. You were satisfied with dog hair nuts, admit it Clint, you need me,” Phil says.

Clint lets out a dramatic sigh, “seriously, buddy, you’ve been warned. He even managed to kill the cockroaches, those things can survive a nuclear blast but god help them if they come in contact with Phil Coulson,” Clint says, shaking his head.

“That’s great, but where is everything?” Bucky asks, more concerned with where to find his cooking stuff. He had a bad habit of cooking late at night and he didn’t want to stumble home from work to spend three hours trying to find his shit. At that point he’d cook out of spite because he spent so long finding the stuff.

“Right, it took me a few tries to find a system that works efficiently but if you’ll look to your left-” Phil continues while Clint and Bucky share a horrified look. The world _really_ needed to be afraid of Phil Coulson.

Bucky is strewn across his couch sometime after Clint finally managed to remove Phil from his new home when someone knocks on the door. He debates on leaving the person there but they knock again so he heaves a sigh and picks himself up to go answer it. He opens the door to find Steve poised to knock again, “what are you doing here?” he snaps with more force than strictly necessary. It was hardly his fault he was still mad, damnit, Steve totally betrayed his boundaries and he knew it, Bucky felt that his anger was perfectly justified.

Steve’s cheeks color just a bit and somewhere in the back of his mind he was reminded that it should be something he found attractive. All it did for Bucky was remind him of that one time, before Steve got lucky and hit one hell of a growth spurt and good health, when he had a real bad fever. Bucky was sure he was going to die he was so out of it but he didn’t, Steve is one stubborn bastard, but the memory didn’t do much to make current Steve all that appealing as something other than a friend. How Steve managed to get past all the embarrassing memories he had of Bucky he’d never know, Bucky was a really embarrassing child.

“I uh… you left you lease on the counter,” Steve says, handing over the pile of papers Bucky didn’t notice until now. Bucky was prepared to snatch them back and think up an excuse to get rid of Steve when his neighbor steps out of her door and gives Steve an appreciative once-over. ‘ _Jealous_ ’ she mouths to him, eyes lingering on Steve’s ass.

“Hey Steve, my neighbor thinks your hot, go hang out with her for a bit,” he says, snatching his papers and disappearing back into his apartment. So he had about as much finesse as a cat wearing shoes, he was sure Steve would forgive him for it later when he stopped pinning after a relationship that will never be. Plus he had that lease Phil had been hunting around for and couldn’t find. One day, when he was feeling particularly brave, he was going to ask Clint how the hell he managed to Dom someone who micromanaged his own micromanaging because he was _curious_.

As soon as his ass hits the couch someone knocks on the door and he internally sets himself aflame. This happened _every time_ he sat down, some introduction that meant he had to get up and do things. He sighs deeply and picks himself up, going back to his door to deal with Steve, only he finds his neighbor there instead. “Give it to me straight, why is he single? Is he like a serial killer or something? Because that’s the only reason I see for someone that hot to be single,” she says bluntly.

“Hey, my name is Bucky, nice to meet you,” he says, “and Steve went and fell in love with his best friend like an idiot. Pretty sure he isn’t a serial killer but he does need to pull his head out of his ass.”

“Sharon, and nice to meet you too. So to be clear are you the best friend here, or the significant other of the best friend? I need to know which romcom trope I just fell into,” she says and Bucky grins, deciding that he liked Sharon.

After spending a half an hour with Sharon on his couch recounting hilarious stories about their respective family and friends he’s decided Steve has been replaced in the best friend department, at least for now. “Wow, your aunt Peggy does _not_ sound like a woman I’d cross. Steve dated a Peggy for awhile, actually, honestly I think she’d get along famously with your aunt. They’d probably take over the world,” he says.

Sharon laughs, “oh my aunt could do it on her own, she’s just too busy training her sub at the moment,” she says.

“I don’t doubt that, the woman sounds downright terrifying. In a nice way, of course, or I guess as nice as that can get. To be fair Steve’s ex probably wouldn’t need help either, she was also pretty terrifying but I haven’t spoken to her in years. I assume she’s doing well because she is not the type of person to be doing badly, even if she was in a crappy situation. If you want Steve though, please, I’ll stick a bow on him for you,” he tells her.

“How sweet of you. I can forgo the bow, though, no need to cover any of that delicious goodness. Did you just wrinkle your nose? Oh my god, you are so unappreciative,” Sharon says

“I saw him shit his pants in third grade, that does not inspire romantic feelings. Or sexual feelings. Hell, in that moment it didn’t even inspire platonic feelings because I was nice and helped him clean up the mess. You can’t go back from that,” he says, shuddering. He blames Steve for his complete lack of interest in toilet play. Actually toilet play was more than enough to throw him off, Steve didn’t do much to encourage that was not a kink for him.

“No, you can’t go back from that, thanks for ruining a perfectly hot guy for me with that image. So, on to more normal subjects, what kind of work are you into? We have a lot of artists here, and scientists too, you happen to do either of those things? Please say yes, I have bets going with the guy down the hall,” she says.

“Neither, I’m a bartender. Does that win you your bet?” he asks and Sharon swears so he guesses no.

“Guess Erik gets the ten bucks this time. I thought that the guy in the suit was moving in and I had him pinned down for law enforcement for sure, but then you walked up and I figured with the metal arm you were an artist. Bartender though, that’s got to be interesting work,” she says. Buck glances at his arm, only just realizing that it wasn’t covered like it usually was. He was surprised that Sharon hadn’t spent the entire time she was sitting across from him staring at it.

He decides to just ignore the arm thing and move on to the rest of that statement. “Yeah, my boss regularly tries to kill me,” he says, deadpan.

Sharon almost drops her drink, eyes wide, “oh my god,” she says and Bucky bursts out laughing.

“Nah, it fine, its fine. If you knew Weasel you’d get it, and to be fair he sucks ass at trying to kill people. It’s Wade you gotta watch out for, he can throw the whole damn bar into pandemonium with a single shot. Ever heard of Sister Margaret’s School for Wayward Children?” he asks.

He watches the light go off in Sharon’s mind and she nods, “ahh, makes sense now. Anyone actually die there?” she asks curiously.

“Nah, but Wade needs to stop handing out blowjobs to everyone, they start too many fights,” he says and watches Sharon give him a weird look before she realizes he meant the shot, not the sex act. “So what do you do?” he asks more to be polite than anything.

“I’m a spy,” she says, grinning.

“No shit, the guy in the suit, he used to be a spy,” Bucky says.

Sharon’s eyebrows shoot up, “really? Who’d he work for?” she asks.

“No clue, he claims that if he tells us he’d have to kill us. Like literally, apparently that isn’t just a T.V trope,” he says.

“Huh, I wonder if I know him then,” Sharon says, squinting like she was trying to remember who Phil might have been back in his spy days.

*

Bucky bites his lip somewhat nervously, eyeing the table, “spit it out, Bucky,” Tony tells him. He uses a firm enough tone that it draws Bucky’s attention away from whatever fascinating images were on the table top. Tony would prefer not to push him but in the interest of being thorough it was sort of necessary, this conversation was intended to cover both of their asses.

He gets a dramatic sigh in response, “I… well I like you and what if we aren’t like… compatible kink-wise?” he asks somewhat sheepishly.

“Than we aren’t compatible kink-wise. That doesn’t mean we can’t go buy some fries to throw at ducks so we can watch a literal hunger games,” Tony says honestly.

“Are fries healthy for ducks?” Bucky asks, frowning.

“Buzzkill. And no, probably not, I mean they aren’t good for people let alone ducks but we can give them a treat. They have short life spans, we have to let them live a little before they shuffle off this mortal coil,” he says.

“Was that a Hamlet reference?” Bucky asks.

“Was it? No clue. But I’m going to rip off the band aid and get to the point here, I prefer pleasure over pain. I like taking care of my subs, feeding them, brushing their hair, bathing them, that kind of thing. Kink-wise I like sensation play mostly, using different kinds of fabrics and materials to draw different reactions. Usually I combine it with some sort of sensory deprivation like using a blindfold, tying your hands behind your back, having you listen to music so you can’t actually hear what I’m doing to anticipate where the next touch will be. Any of this sound appealing?” he asks.

There was more as far as care went but he didn’t want to scare Bucky off just yet. Ideally he’d pay for everything too, it made him feel better to have actual records of what Bucky would be eating, knowing his environment wasn’t shitty for sure because he picked it out, and ideally it would be a building he knew had security. People were assholes and they would absolutely target Bucky to get to him, plus the press, fans, everyone else who gave a damn about his life, being with him wasn’t easy.

“I… actually yeah that sounds… like something I didn’t know I wanted until I heard it actually. But like… no pain?” Bucky asks hesitantly.

“I’d prefer not, is that something you enjoy?” he asks.

“No, not really. I mean some stuff is okay but nothing too… extreme,” Bucky says.

“Subjective term, what does extreme look like to you?” Tony asks. Force of habit, being overly clear, even if he wasn’t an overly blunt person business relied heavily on wording. He’s fucked more than one person over with using subjective terms with the intention of burning them to the ground, he didn’t make a habit of using flimsy language in his personal life for that reason. If things were clear-cut and easy to understand he dealt with less problems later.

Of course there was always the one night stand who thought they could swindle money out of him and if they had a case he’d make an effort to hear them out, but he has yet to have that happen. He was pretty methodical in his record keeping anyways, and JARVIS recorded everything even if it was just audio, which all parties knew about and consented to of course, but it made it difficult to screw him over and it would work equally as well for whomever he slept with if he broke the rules. JARVIS sent off all recordings to the appropriate parties before he could touch them, same with the paperwork, it made covering his partner’s ass more secure that way. And if those videos found their way to the internet, well, it wasn’t _his_ fault whomever he slept with decided to violate his trust only to have their systems fry for it. Lesson _learned_.

Bucky thinks before he speaks and that was a good sign, Tony has learned his lesson long ago about hastily drawn out rules. They didn’t look good on paper and he was sick of people being assholes and trying to take his money. Personally he thought it would be a whole lot more productive to _ask_ but maybe he was old fashioned or something. “Nothing that leaves permanent marks or scarring, no drawing blood, preferably no biting, nipping is fine but keep actual bite marks off my body, thanks. And I’m not fond of paddles, or whips,” he says and Tony cringes hard against his will.

“I hate whips,” he says with perhaps more force than necessary. Howard used to use them and now the sound alone was enough to make him want to vomit.

“Are you okay?” Bucky asks, leaning forward in concern.

“I… yeah I’m alright. Your limits are pretty much a bunch of stuff I wouldn’t want to do anyways, so that’s convenient for us both. Anything else you don’t particularly like?” he asks.

“If you ever try and bring anything that belongs in a toilet anywhere near me I will drop your ass like a hot potato. I’ve cleaned public bathrooms, do not do that to me,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose hard and Tony bursts out laughing.

“Scat isn’t for me either man, and I didn’t need to clean a public bathroom to come to that conclusion,” Tony says, still snickering. All he had to do was almost try it once, safeword out, and never look back. Rhodey teased him for weeks because he prided himself on trying anything twice to make sure he did or didn’t like it the first time for sure. There were some things you just knew though, like your sexuality, Justin Hammer being a total dipshit, and whether or not you were into toilet play. He wasn’t going to mess with his instincts on that, he’d leave the toilet play for those who enjoyed it.

“Thank _god_. I mean you do you and all that, but that is not for me,” Bucky says, wrinkling his nose. Tony grins and moves on to the next subject, how he liked to work contracts specifically, because trial periods made sense to him at least. Natasha agreed and she was supposed to be sensible so he figured that he was right on this detail, even if Rhodey thought he was weird for it.


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am so sorry this took so long. I had the last of my final assignments to finish up and that took up time. I also chose to finish up two other stories and start another. But I have a chapter! Also sorry for the false update awhile back, I meant to update a different story and accidentally stuck the chapter onto this one. Thanks to the person who commented and pointed that out!
> 
> BUT, I think I will have made it up to you all because there's some actual BDSM in this chapter! Like a fair amount of it. I'm going to be sticking to the more mental side of BDSM in part because I find it more interesting but mostly because I can't write sex to save my life. I'll give you warnings for play at the beginning of each chapter the play is in and if I miss something let me know, or if the dynamic is wonky, let me know! 
> 
> Warnings include: a reference to domestic violence and child abuse in the beginning.
> 
> Play includes: Ice play, feathers, some light praise kink, and a blindfold. 
> 
> This is the first time Ive written a BDSM scene this in depth, go easy on me. And always make sure to do your research and communicate with your partner if you try this in real life! I hope you enjoy the chapter :)

“I didn’t even know this place existed,” Tony says, looking around. They had backtracked the weapons back to the warehouse they were currently in, under Tony’s name, and he didn’t like that he didn’t know about it.

Rhodey looks around, “yeah, I think we’re going to need to call someone about this,” he says. Tony knows that Rhodey wouldn’t suggest it if it wasn’t necessary but he wasn’t totally convinced that this was an issue that he couldn’t handle himself. He wasn’t _fond_ of authority figures, always just a little too suspicious of them. He knew that Rhodey wondered about that, why he would be suspicious of authority, especially because he was basically untouchable anyways. Rich people didn’t go to jail, especially not if they were as famous as Tony Stark. But he couldn’t help developing an aversion to the police and wider public ‘support’ systems that did dick all for him and his mother when they needed it.

He was untouchable yeah, and that was the fucking problem. Being rich, famous, and good looking shouldn’t make a person immune to the consequences of their actions. Every time some stupid reporter mentioned Howard or talked about how lucky he must have been, how lucky his mother probably was, he wanted to fucking clock them. But he didn’t because they didn’t know, no matter how many times Tony explicitly mentioned the abuse, flippantly even, people ignored it. Now he got why Howard laughed the first time Tony ever mentioned the police. They were useless and Tony didn’t trust them whatsoever, especially not with something as dangerous as his weapons. He knew the damage they could do, he _made_ them with the intent to do maximum damage. They were made to fire _once_ they were that good and they needed to be rounded up and properly disposed of.

“I’m in agreement with Colonel Rhodes,” someone else says and Tony turns to find a shorter man wearing aviators and a pleasant smile.

“ _Agent_ ,” he says, narrowing his eyes at the irritating spy that put him on house arrest a few years ago. He personally felt that the government’s insistence that he was a threat to national security was a little much; all he did was hack into their systems to book time off for Rhodey. It wasn’t his fault the military had such crappy protection.

“Mr. Stark,” Agent says, nodding his head in acknowledgement, “your company appears to have a weapons problem and given your decision to stop selling weapons I assume that’s of interest to you.”

“Sure it is, but it’s of not interest to you so go crawl back under whatever hole you came out of,” Tony says, waving his hand at Agent, dismissing him. Rhodey watches the exchange looking amused, eyes bouncing back and forth between Tony and Agent as they bicker.

“Mmm, I think it is of interest to me,” Agent says, “but if you don’t want to see what I’ve managed to find, I’ll go.” He sounds way too fucking chipper, like he knows he’s winning this and Tony didn’t like it.

“What do you have?” he asks as Agent hits the door. He glares at the man, hoping to will him into not being an asshole about winning their little game of chicken.

Unfortunately he had no such luck, “I knew you’d do that. Here you go,” Agent says, handing him a stack of papers a good two inches thick. Tony is impressed but he doesn’t show Agent that. Rhodey, the dirty traitor, does and Tony was going to make sure he expressed ample disappointment with that later. The first bit of information was stuff he already had, mostly that his weapons appeared to be in distribution, that the patterns the weapons were making were not the same as the ones he produced, and the warehouse they were in. He didn’t, however, have any financials as proof that SI was at all involved in this but Agent did.

“How the hell did you get access to my records?” Tony demands, glaring Agent down.

Agent doesn’t even flinch, the bastard, “they aren’t your records, I just linked them back to your company. Interestingly if you flip two pages ahead you’ll note that nothing links back to you directly. And whoever is selling those weapons has done a _lot_ of work to try and link them back to you. They were unsuccessful for reasons I couldn’t determine, but I’m going to assume that you have some very high security around your personal assets and that was why your weapons dealer couldn’t successfully link things back.” Agent sounds pleased with himself but Tony is not impressed.

“Is any of this information even legal?” he asks. There was no way it could be legal, half of this was stuff that was linked to accounts and companies overseas. He knew enough about international policies to know that trying to get this sort of information was a huge pain in the ass.

“Mostly,” Agent says dubiously with that stupid pleasant smile on his face. Tony wanted to punch him but he resists.

“Great, the government doesn’t care about the law. Disappointed but not surprised,” he says harshly.

He gets another one of those condescending pleasant smiles from Agent. “Oh, I don’t work for the government anymore. Consider me a freelancer,” he says in a tone that matched his stupid smile.

“So the government hires other people to do their dirty work for them, again, disappointed but not surprised. Get lost, Agent,” he says, handing the stack of papers back. He needed to look into those funds _immediately_ and thankfully he had an impressive memory when it came to numbers. Unless they were birthdays.

*

“Look, would it kill you to confirm or deny the rumors?” Obi says, sitting in his chair with his legs and arms spread, taking up as much space as possible. Tony resists the urge to roll his eyes at the obvious power play. He lived an entire life with Howard, simple gestures like that would not intimidate him, or Pepper if her irritated body language was any indication.

“Would it kill them to fuck off?” Tony snaps, not willing to play this game. No one needed to know about his orientation, it wasn’t relevant to them. Unless they took up position as his sub then they could stay out of it, and even then his biology was irrelevant, regardless of what doctors thought.

“Tony, they’re curious and you can’t blame them. You keep the mystery going well,” Obi says and there’s an edge to that. Probably because Obi had some bizarre impression that Tony’s orientation was worth something when it wasn’t.

“That’s because it’s my mystery to keep. People have no use for my orientation, they all throw themselves at me now I doubt that’ll change if they knew I was a Dom,” he says, annoyed. He only realizes his mistake when Pepper lets out a small sigh and Ob grins wide.

“I knew it! You should consider selling that information, though,” Obi tells him, smile still fixed to his face.

He sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger, “as if you aren’t going to sell that information yourself as soon as you step out tat door,” he says. Obi knew him well but he knew Obi well too, if the man thought something was profitable he tried to sell it.

“You know me well,” Obadiah says, picking himself up out of his chair, “you really should have told me a long time ago. There’s money to be made.” With that he leaves the room, leaving Tony with Pepper.

“Is he even aware that I’m a billionaire? Because I think money is literally the last thing I need,” he says. But hey, Obadiah would insist he knew best, even if Tony was savvy enough at business on his own.

“Obadiah wouldn’t care if you had all the money in the world but a single dollar, he’d try and get that dollar too. You know this,” Pepper tells him.

He rubs his temples, “yeah I know but fuck, does he have to ride my ass so hard?” he mumbles.

“Better your ass than mine,” Pepper chirps.

“Oh please, if Natasha even had the slightest impression that Obadiah was thinking about your ass in any way, shape, or form she kill him and wear his skin at breakfast like a victory pelt,” Tony says.

Pepper looks horrified, “that’s disgusting! She’d probably just mount his head on the wall.” Yeah, she probably would and Tony isn’t sure which option freaks him out more.

*

Bucky takes a deep breath to try and calm himself with some success. It’s been a long time since he’s trusted anyone but Steve with his body and honestly that hadn’t gone well. Weasel, because he’s an asshole, pointed out that it wasn’t like it could get much worse from here and Bucky supposed he had a point. He was well aware of what a red flag looked like; he could just go, at least in theory. But- no, he had no reason to think Tony would hurt him. Actually all current evidence suggested the opposite and it was best to take things at face value.

The elevator door opens and for a moment he panics because he has no clue why he was there. But Tony is standing there and he looks so open and Bucky can feel some of the tension leave his body. “Pro tip, you can’t walk through the back of an elevator even if you really want to,” he says. Bucky realizes he’s half turned, poised to walk away… except that the only place to go was through the back of the damn elevator.

“Well, this is embarrassing. Sorry,” he mumbles, looking at the ground for something to do.

“That’s alright. I spent the last ten minutes debating on running away, except this is my house so I don’t really have anywhere to go unless I feel like jumping on a plane and jet leg isn’t worth it,” he jokes.

He can’t help the small bubble of laughter as he imagines Tony trying to escape his own place only to realize that shit, he lived there. It was the kind of thing Bucky would do, the kind of thing Bucky has _done_. Except he escaped out the bathroom window and fled to Steve’s. “Guess at least you didn’t crawl out of the bathroom window in shame,” he says with a grin.

“I would have a very long fall if I did that so no. It was an option though, until I realized that I would be falling to my death and I decided that was stupid. Besides, ten minutes before that I was looking forward to this so I figured maybe I should do that instead,” Tony says. Yeah, yeah Bucky too and Weasel was right, he has already been up shits creek and back a few times so he knew his way around. He’d be okay, this would be fine.

“Yeah me too, but last minute nerves, you know?” he says somewhat awkwardly.

“‘Course I do but we both know exactly what we’re expecting, it isn’t like this is some surprise for either of us. We planned it that way on purpose,” Tony points out. Which, yeah they had. It took a few days of back and forth to get the details right, Tony was far more detail oriented than Bucky thought he’d be, but they knew exactly what they were walking into. It was a test of sorts to see if they were compatible in this way. Bucky kind of appreciated it even if he was currently jittery and unsure. “Come on,” Tony says softly, walking towards him slowly and gently nudging him forward. Giving him time to back out, Bucky realizes, but he walks forward instead.

He liked Tony, he wanted to see where this went and this was part of seeing where this went. So he continues forward, feeling a little more grounded when Tony presses his hand to the small of his back, anchoring him some. He’s guided to a table with food and he realizes how hungry he is when the smells register past his nervousness. Obviously he had eaten earlier but he had a bad habit of forgetting to eat as often as he should and out of honestly he had mentioned it to Tony. Tony took that as an invitation to feed him and he figured turning down free food was stupid. When he sees the pillow witting next to the chair he automatically kneels on it more out of habit than anything. He doesn’t think much of it until he hears the small intake of breath from behind him and he straightens his posture a bit in an effort to further impress Tony.

It must work because Tony reaches out carefully and lightly brushes his fingertips along the bottom of Bucky’s jaw, tipping his chin up a bit so he was looking at Tony instead of the ground. “Perfect,” Tony murmurs, holding his fingers there for a moment more before taking them away. Bucky makes a small sound at the loss and Tony smiles at him. He holds his position and waits for Tony to make his move, whatever that might be. The last of his nerves have gone and Tony had his full attention, it was kind of hard not to when he looked like that.

The guy was gorgeous and Bucky was kind of jealous. Tony looked perfectly at home in his three piece suit, like he had been born in it, and Bucky could pretty much guarantee that it was tailored to fit him exactly. It sure as hell looked like it and Tony wore the look well, _very_ well. His hair was messy, the kind that looked like he just rolled out of bed but in a stylish kind of way. Bucky has always been jealous of people who could pull that off, he looked like an angry dead dandelion when he got out of bed because his long hair went everywhere. But he was too lazy to cut it so he left it be.

The tie Tony is wearing is red, a bright pop of color on the black and white of the suit. The color suits Tony, Bucky thinks, because it’s bright and impossible to miss like Tony was. Tony picks up a plate and Bucky’s attention shifts to the food. He had no clue what the hell was on those crackers but it smelled good so he figures it probably wasn’t deadly. Tony picks up one of the crackers and Bucky leans forward slightly, eagerly, and Tony smiles. He held out the cracker and Bucky takes it gently in his mouth, surprised when it tasted so _good_. Bucky still had no clue what he was eating but he wasn’t going to complain either. When he’s finished the first Tony hands him another.

They repeat the pattern, Tony taking a cracker for himself every once in awhile, until they’re gone. Tony grabs another plate and grins, “think fast,” he says and a grape comes flying at him out of nowhere and hits Bucky’s forehead despite his efforts to catch it in his mouth. Tony laughs softly and Bucky pulls a grape off the plate, throwing it at Tony in an effort to pay him back. Unfortunately for him Tony catches the stupid thing, chewing the grape with a grin on his face.

Bucky sulks, “I am so offended right now,” he mumbles.

“Guess this is your redemption bite,” Tony says, holding out a grape. Bucky takes it gently between his teeth and pulls away, eating it as he goes. Tony tilts his head to the side, smiling just a bit to himself. Bucky preens under the attention. The grapes tasted freakishly good too and Bucky wondered if rich people got different grapes at rich stores or something. Probably and he was pissed that he’s been missing out. He’s handed another grape and he takes it carefully, chewing the fruit and savoring the flavor. There was no going back to poor people grapes now and he was a little mad about it because he couldn’t afford whatever kind of grape that was.

“You look so grumpy, what are you thinking about?” Tony asks, smiling at him.

“I can’t afford rich people grapes,” Bucky admits after a few seconds pause, “that sounds really embarrassing out loud,” he mumbles. Tony frowns for a moment and then bursts out laughing.

“So you like grapes, noted,” he says, shaking his head at Bucky. First off, it was not his fault he was not rolling in money like Tony was, it was hardly his fault he couldn't afford grapes so good Greek gods probably ate them. They eventually finish those off too and Tony decides it’s a good idea to try throwing another grape at him. It bounces off his forehead too; rolling off somewhere that was not Bucky’s mouth and that was disappointing. Tony throws the last grape in the air and catches it in his mouth just fine, grinning at Bucky when he does it. Bucky scowls at him.

Tony instructs him to take the dishes to the kitchen and meet him back in the living room so he does as he’s told, returning to find Tony standing there with his tie loosened and his top button undone. Bucky kind of wants to lick the skin that’s been exposed but he doesn’t, instead he waits for further instruction. Tony walks up slowly and presses a hand to his shoulder and Bucky drops to his knees in compliance. He catches Tony shudder and he shivers in response, pleased that Tony was pleased. When he drops his head to look at the ground Tony catches his chin, tilting his head back up again, “don’t hide your face,” he instructs and Bucky shivers again.

He takes a few steps back and Bucky watches, as per instruction, as Tony gives him an appraising once-over. “Take off your shirt,” he says and Bucky only pauses for a moment, self conscious of his arm, but he complies, tossing the removed garment at Tony with a grin. Tony throws it back, hitting him in the face with it and snickers, “fold it,” he says. Bucky complies, folding the shirt nice enough that even Phil would be impressed and he only folded his clothes in one weirdly specific way. Tony looks impressed and Bucky preens, “do you know how to fold a fitted sheet?” he asks.

“No one knows how to fold a fitted sheet,” he says. Except Phil and Bucky was convinced that he must be in league with the devil if he had acquired such knowledge.

“Damn. Guess you have to be some sort of god to have that knowledge,” Tony says. He turns though, picking something up off the small table behind him and walking over to Bucky with it. “Safeword?” he asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nettles,” Bucky says. Chosen from a fond childhood memory of when Steve had fallen into a giant patch of stinging nettles and Bucky had laughed only to have Steve push him in when he pulled himself out. They had been covered for a week with a giant rash and they had profusely apologized to each other for being assholes. For years if anyone said anything that resembled the word ‘nettles’ they were immediately suspicious and everyone thought it was _hilarious_ so nettles became something of an inside family joke. It had become Bucky’s safeword when he forgot what his actual safeword was with some one-night stand and all he had was ‘nettles’. To be fair he hasn’t forgotten it since and he _still_ couldn’t remember what the hell he chose before.

“Good,” Tony says and he hands out the object he had pulled off the table. A sheer scarf, Bucky realizes, and he takes it somewhat hesitantly, not entirely sure what Tony was playing at considering this wasn’t in the plan. “Put it on,” Tony tells him and then Bucky gets it. He hadn’t been fond of not being able to see; hence the scarf being sheer, leaving him some vision, and this was Tony’s way of making sure he was still okay with the idea. Instead of responding Bucky carefully ties the scarf around his head, securing it by securing it into a bow at the back of his head.

The lighting of the room had already been dimmed, which made his ability to see through the blindfold more difficult but he could still make out his shape alright. “You okay?” Tony asks after a few moments. Bucky nods because he was, he could still see, sort of, and hear. He felt fine, safe even. “Good,” Tony murmurs, brushing his fingers down Bucky’s jaw again before drawing away. He sighs grumpily when Tony moves away, drawing a snicker from the other man.

Tony circles him slowly, occasionally dragging his finger tips across Bucky’s skin lightly, the touch gone as fast as it was there. He brushes his fingers across Bucky’s shoulder, down his arm and then the touch was gone. The tips of his fingers touch his clavicle, just barely hitting the skin and then they’re gone again. Next Tony runs his fingertips down Bucky’s spine, drawing a shudder out of him, and then he steps away and Bucky misses the touch. Tony tilts his head up, his touch feather light as it was before, “gorgeous,” he whispers and Bucky shivers at the praise. But then Tony moves away again and he leans forward, trying to find touch where there was none. He hears Tony laugh softly but he sounds further away now.

Bucky can hear him plod closer and he fidgets slightly, not knowing exactly what to anticipate. Order was never decided on, probably purposefully now that he thought about it. He doesn’t really regret it though, anticipation for Tony’s next move running high. “Stay still,” Tony tells him and he manages to bring himself under control, “good,” Tony murmurs, his fingers brushing down the side of Bucky’s neck for just a moment. He resists the urge to wiggle again.

He hears Tony shift, taking a few steps around Bucky but for a moment nothing happens. Once again he resists the urge to wiggle around, this time harder than the last but he manages. Tony shifts again and hot breath hits the back of his neck, “you alright?” he asks, his voice soft, deep. Bucky shudders and nods the affirmative. He can feel Tony’s breath hit his back when he laughs softly and the sensation leaves as Tony does. With effort Bucky remains still until something cold hits his back and he yelps, unable to help jerking forward. Ice. Tony laughs and removes the cold cube, letting Bucky readjust. He put the damn cube right where he warmed up Bucky’s back with his breath too and Bucky decides he’d pout about it later.

After a few seconds the ice touches his back again and Tony runs it slowly down his back, causing Bucky to shiver as the cube left a cold trail down his back. “Good,” Tony murmurs when Bucky doesn’t yelp and jerk away this time. He was expecting it now, though. Tony pulls away and the cube goes too, “open your mouth,” Tony tells him and Bucky complies. The ice cube is placed in it and Tony closes his mouth, letting the ice melt there. It was cold as hell and a little salty from Bucky’s skin but he holds it in his mouth like he was supposed to, letting it melt while Tony shuffled off to go get something else. By the time Tony returns Bucky’s tongue is numb.

Nothing happens for a few moments and then Tony shifts, closer to Bucky he thinks, and something soft hits his skin, dragging along his chest. Feathers, his mind supplies. A feather duster. The duster leaves his skin and it’s replaced with Tony’s finger tips, slowly drawing their way down and back up, Bucky’s breath hitching as he moves. The duster returns, this time on his shoulder and Tony trails behind it with his fingertips. Bucky makes a small noise and shudders at the sensations.

“Shh,” Tony murmurs, fingers toying with the hair at the nape of Bucky’s neck. The duster disappears again and Tony’s touch follows suit quickly. He sits quietly for a few moments while Tony… assessed or something. It took work to keep from fidgeting around but he manages, barely. Tony shifts and Bucky sits still, waiting in anticipation for what was to come next. Nothing happens for a moment and Bucky works harder to keep from fidgeting. “You okay?” Tony asks but he’s too far away for his breath to hit Bucky’s skin and that disappoints him. He nods his okay.

“Good,” Tony says and he licks Bucky, the flat of his tongue running up between his shoulder blades almost to the base of his neck.

He lets out a small, “oh!” and trembles a bit, gasping. The duster hits the skin right after, dragging up his back and then back down before it’s gone again. Tony moves, shifts away from him and Bucky sighs, unhappy with this.

“Patience,” Tony tells him and Bucky hears him move, coming closer but then moving away again. Bucky fights the urge to wiggle around both in anticipation and disappointment at the loss of the sensations. Mercifully Tony moves again, coming closer and Bucky does his best to keep still but it was a fucking painful task. “So good,” Tony murmurs, “I only had to tell you to stay still once. Perfect,” he says and the tips of his fingers touch Bucky’s cheek. He tries to lean into it but Tony moves away too fast. He makes an irritated noise and Tony laughs softly at him before tipping his chin up, holding it there for a moment before kissing Bucky gently. The touch is gone too fast but Bucky doesn’t have to wait long for more. Tony presses his lips to Bucky’s again and gently nips at his bottom lip. Bucky gasps lightly, his mouth falling open and Tony takes advantage of the action, licking into Bucky’s mouth and he moans. Tony’s mouth was hot compared to his, chilled by the ice from earlier, and it’s almost too much. He knew what he was doing too, teasing Bucky gently, and warming Bucky’s mouth with his own.

“Jesus,” Tony whispers, “you’re fucking amazing.” Bucky lets out another small moan, his mind growing fuzzy around the edges as Tony gently brushes a strand of hair away from his face. Things start to blur after that, sensations blending together as they come and go, Tony’s words anchoring him in reality though the whole thing. Slowly his mind grows fuzzier as he moves towards the space somewhere between subspace and reality. His body feels light, his skin buzzing brightly with endorphins and Tony’s touch, his breath, his toys. He could let go but he isn’t sure he wants to just yet, unsure of how far this was supposed to go.

“Bucky…” Tony’s voice sounds far away, like Bucky’s ears were stuffed with cotton, “Bucky,” his voice comes again and this time he sounds closer. Something hits his shoulders, draping around and settling almost like a blanket. After a few moments Bucky determines that the softness around his body actually was a blanket. “Bucky,” Tony says again and this time he sounds like he’s right in front of Bucky.

He’d blink but he still had that blindfold on but he was more aware now, in the present. He can feel Tony reach around his head, gently untying the bow at the back of his head. The fabric falls away and Bucky blinks a few times, his eyes adjusting to the dim light of the room. He forgot that he could technically still see, he realizes, preferring to wait to find out what Tony was going to do next. Tony is looking at him with a soft expression, looking almost awed and Bucky shivers, falling forward into Tony’s chest. He lets out a short huff, “I think it’s safe to say we’re compatible,” he says.

“Mmm,” Bucky says back, unable to do much more than make a noise of affirmation. Tony wraps his arms around Bucky and gently runs his hands up and down his body, winding down from the previous session.

“You were amazing,” Tony croons into his hair, “so good.” Bucky lets out a small noise of pleasure, burying his face in Tony’s clothing, inhaling the scent of his cologne. Tony continues to run his hands along Bucky’s body, whispering words of praise and encouragement and Bucky blinks blearily, ready to sleep.


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, warning for cancer and I think that's it. If not let me know!

“Since when did you start working with Agent?” Tony asks, deeply offended that Rhodey would betray him this way.

“What? His information was good,” Rhodey says, looking unrepentant about his treasonous ways.

Tony feels around on his desk and grabs the first thing he knows isn’t a tool and tosses it at Rhodey, “you treacherous snake, Agent is the enemy! I thought you knew that but no, I find out that you’ve off and betrayed me,” Tony says, waving his hands around dramatically.

Rhodey smacks the object away before it hits him and frowns as he spies what clattered to the ground. “Did you just throw a _dildo_ at me?” he asks, sounding as offended as Tony feels.

He looks at the ground and finds that yes, he did just throw a dildo at Rhodey. “If you’re going to act like a dick, I’ll throw one at you,” Tony chirps, nose stuck in the air. This gets a laugh from Rhodey but he otherwise ignores the comment in favor if telling him what Agent knew. The general consensus was that this was something coming from the inside of his company out, not the other way around, and that whomever was behind this knew him and the company well. Whoever was also very good at covering their tracks but Agent suspected that Tony could track down where Agent’s breadcrumbs were coming from. Agent himself was not that talented and Tony agreed. He had no idea what Agent’s skill set was but he knew it wasn’t as good as his own.

“Oh, and by the way, if I find out that dildo is anything but you fucking around with prototypes and business ideas I will end this friendship full stop. Friends don’t throw dildos at friends,” Rhodey tells him with a note of finality.

“It’s mostly clean,” Tony tells him even though he had guessed right when he assumed it was a prototype. Rhodey picks up the dildo gingerly and throws it back at him, looking victorious when Tony yelps and bats the dildo away. It goes flying and hits poor Dummy right in the claw, causing the bot to spin it in confusion. “Oh look what you’ve done, you upset Dummy. It’s okay, daddy didn’t mean to hit you with a dildo, it was Rhodey’s fault,” he tells the bot, wheeling over to pat the poor thing affectionately.

“There are a lot of things in my life that I thought I would never hear, that statement was one of them,” Rhodey says, “now come on. We have things to do, like figure out who the hell is selling your fake weapons.” Tony sighs and wheels away from Dummy because Rhodey was right; he had breadcrumbs to track and people to arrest.

*

“Best song quote go,” Weasel says, dropping his hand from above his head to indicate a start to something. Wade looks like someone just asked him to figure out how many cats could fit between the earth and the moon but Bucky came prepared.

“‘Tell your boyfriend if he says he’s got beef that I’m a vegetarian and I ain’t fucking scared of him’,” he says quickly, trying to beat Wade to the punch even though he was clearly stumped.

Weasel’s jaw hits the ground and he sits down, contemplating his life. “Holy shit everyone quit life because Bucky just fucking won it. _Where_ did you hear that lyric?” he asks.

“3OH!3, songs called ‘Don’t Trust Me’,” Bucky says, “overheard some teens listening to it forever ago and caught that line and decided they had the greatest music taste ever.” They didn’t, most of the band’s music was trash but it was lovable trash, even if Steve disagreed. But then he might have hated the music because Bucky insisted on singing along to it at three a.m in the shower. It wasn’t his fault that he worked late though, he had to shower sometime and what kind of loser showered with no music? Steve did but that’s because he was bland, he also liked Rice Krispies with nothing on them, just the Krispies and the milk. Total _savage_. Everyone knew that you had to add a little sugar or honey or _something_ to give those cardboard flavored nuggets any flavor at all but no, Steve had no taste buds apparently.

“That’s fucking amazing, have two hundred dollars,” Weasel says, holding out a wad of cash. Bucky snatches it and stuffs it in his pocket before Wade got any ideas and before Weasel could change his mind.

“You know what, fuck you, I’m putting you on the deadpool this week,” Wade tells him, sulking because he was a poor loser.

“Fine, I only work twice so that’s not a problem,” Bucky says with a grin. It did mean he had to flirt his ass off for tips but hey, he was cute, he’d be fine. And Weasel just handed him two hundred bucks because someone else wrote an iconic line and he reiterated it. And this was why he loved his job so much, it was hardly work and yeah, maybe people got stabbed here semi-frequently and okay, so it was a but of a dive bar. But the people were great, the money was good, the entertainment was constant. There wasn’t much not to love despite what Steve thought about the place. It wasn’t like he was Bucky’s mother; he had no right to go about telling Bucky what to do. Not that Bucky’s mother would ever know he worked here on account of her being dead, but he wouldn’t have told her about his occupation if she was alive either.

“You only work twice? Wanna take my Friday?” Wade asks hopefully.

“I’d rather die,” Bucky says. Friday nights were horrible and he had plans with Tony anyways, he’d take his chances flirting for cash.

“You’ll be dead by Wednesday,” Wade tells him, flipping him off for good measure.

“Not if you want your Saturday night off,” Weasel says and Wade groans, flipping Bucky off again. Saturdays were worse than Fridays but the tips were better and the shift went by faster so Bucky was still winning as far as he was concerned.

“Fine, so you won’t die this week, maybe next week. But on to more interesting topics, did you see the news today? Everyone knows that Tony Stark is a Dom, as if it wasn’t obvious before,” Wade says, rolling his eyes.

“You’re only pissed off because you made a bet with Vanessa that he was secretly a sub and you were wrong,” Weasel says. Technically, biologically, Wade was right but Bucky doesn’t tell them that.

“He’s irritated about the coverage. Guess his asshole business partner thought the information was worth something or something like that,” he says. Bucky hadn’t even met Obadiah Stane and he hated the guy, he sounded like a pushy asshole that didn’t know how to follow basic instructions and prided himself on it. Brock used to be the same way and now Bucky kind of hated anyone who reminded him of the guy.

“Well he has got a lot of publicity out of it, what is this, day three on page one?” Wade asks.

“Shouldn’t be news at all, why does that matter to anyone but Tony or whoever he might be seeing?” Bucky says, irritated. But he had a different perspective than Wade or Weasel would have, neither of them cared about their orientation because theirs was never in question. If anyone found out that Tony, biologically, was a sub no one would take the Dom thing seriously. His orientation wasn’t something Bucky talked about in access either, though most people could guess based on mannerisms, but it was something of a sore spot. He was sure Tony felt the same way, even if he was good at putting on a brave face and snarking at the media shit storm that was now following him around.

“I don’t know, it’s just nice to know,” Weasel says.

“Doesn’t really tell you much about a person though,” Bucky points out, “everyone’s tastes are different so the hang-up on orientation is kind of weird. I mean do people really think that it means something?” He personally didn’t and he found that most people who did care, at least the kind that went beyond a passing interest, were looking to assume you fit a specific role in their head. It required a person to stereotype and stereotypes around Doms and subs have been disrupted and thrown out forever ago.

Like that stupid stereotype that Dommes didn’t exist, or that switches didn’t exist, and that men were never subs. Now everyone knew that switches were the most common orientation and obviously Dommes existed, sexism just made their lives more difficult, and men clearly had the capacity to be subs. So why there was a hang-up on orientation he didn’t know because being one label or another said nothing about what you were or weren’t interested in kink-wise. It didn’t say much about personality either, which was another myth. People used to think that dominating personalities obviously meant Dom but that was only right about ten percent of the time. Interestingly submissive personalities were more likely to be Doms. That didn’t stop people from buying into stereotypes though.

“Guess not,” Wade says, “you make a point about people being hung up on kind of stupid things. Like people caring that I’m pansexual and then making stupid ass jokes about me fucking pans.” Wade rolls his eyes and Bucky got that, really, so many people asked if he was willing to be in a threesome because he was bisexual and he got tired of that fast. Or worse, they assumed he was likely to cheat on them or something. He had no clue when ‘bisexual’ suddenly became ‘lacks morals and basic decency and respect for dating partners’ but okay.

“Okay but there was that one time with the pan handle,” Weasel points out.

“For the _irony_ , not because I want to fuck pans. Besides, no one ever thinks I’m a sub because I’m tall and broad. I’m not sure when ‘sub’ started equaling ‘small woman’ but I really resent whichever asshole spread that rumor. If I have one more jackass say ‘really?’ because I don’t ‘look’ like a sub, whatever that means, I’m gunna break out the pansexual powers and beat the shit out of them with my sexy pans,” Wade says. “Do you get that?” he asks Bucky.

Bucky shrugs, “I don’t really mention my orientation much. People guess but they usually go for switch, probably because of the tall broad guy thing. Sometimes people think I’m a Dom.” How they came to that conclusion he had no clue, how people came to _any_ conclusion he had no clue. Sometimes you could tell immediately but most of the time it was a mystery until someone referred to any significant others or play partners and then the term they used would give them away, or at least tell you which part they played in the partnership. Obviously they were the sub if they referred to their significant other as ‘Sir’ or ‘Master’ or something along those lines. ‘Pet’ was the most popular give away for Doms.

Weasel squints at him, “who the fuck could possibly come to the conclusion that you’re a Dom? That person needs their eyes checked or something,” he says. To be fair to Steve he knew what Bucky’s biological orientation was, it had never occurred to him that sometimes orientation and biology didn’t match up quite right. Or even remotely at all in Bucky’s case. The thought of being someone’s Dom made him panicky and back when he was still playing Dom it flat out gave him panic attacks. He doesn’t say anything and Wade picks up on the conversation, going back to annoying pansexual stereotypes, which also included the pesky ‘more likely to cheat’ thing that Bucky related to.

*

Tony had had to go on some emergency business trip so Bucky ended up home alone on Friday night bored out of his mind, at least until Tony put him out of his misery with a phone call. Not that he knew Bucky was dead bored but still, it was the theoretical thought that counted. “Hey gorgeous,” Tony says in a voice that was honestly sinful.

“You should be one of those phone Doms with a voice like that,” Bucky says, grinning even though Tony couldn’t see it.

“Mmm, I like that idea. I’m gunna hang onto that, I travel a lot and ideally I’d just bring you with me, but you have a life so I can’t exactly expect you to just drop everything for me,” Tony says. Bucky was tempted to but he sets the idea aside, he did that once and it went horribly. It was best that he had his own life separate from Tony’s; he already knew what happened when you got overinvested in a relationship and it wasn’t pretty.

“Ideally I’d have money to travel but here I am, mostly poor and watching Netflix originals,” he says, sparing his T.V a glance. To be fair Netflix had some pretty sweet shows but still.

Tony remains silent for a moment too long, “are the shows any good at least?” he asks in place of whatever he was going to say.

“They’re alright. What were you going to say though? And don’t lie, you were totally going to say something else before,” Bucky says. He was curious and besides, Tony didn’t usually care about holding back.

“I well… if this works out I’d prefer to pay for things, it’s easier that way,” Tony says and Bucky makes a face at he phone, somewhat thankful that Tony couldn’t see his face.

“So… it’s a control thing?” he asks, frowning.

“What? No, that’s creepy, I wasn’t very clear. It isn’t that I have any interest in controlling you via money, it’s that I would want you to have a certain living standard and you probably can’t afford my standards, so it’d be easier for me to pay for things. Honestly I can’t control my own life, why the hell would I try and control yours? Plus that’s a little fucked up unless heavily negotiated and I have no interest in that,” Tony says bluntly. Bucky could appreciate Tony’s lack of sugar coating things, it was useful. He got the distinct impression that Tony would make a terrible liar anyways.

“Well that’s way less creepy than my initial conclusions,” he says, “would I get those grapes?” He’d straight up kill a man for those grapes, provided that man was Brock. Then he knew he wasn’t killing off someone that was a good person or something.

Tony snorts, “they’re just grapes, what is with your obsession?”

“I’ll feed you poor people grapes and then you can feel my pain,” Bucky tells him. He even went and got some just to see if maybe he was mistaken or something and sadly no, he was not, regular grapes sucked. They were too sour.

“There’s no difference,” Tony says, laughing.

“There is so a difference and I will show you the next time I see you. But on a different note, how’s business? It sounds boring as fuck, no offense,” he says. Sitting in a boardroom trying to convince a bunch of rich assholes to agree with you, another rich asshole, sounded like Bucky’s personal hell. All that talking and math and publicity and all the other crap Tony had to deal with sounded horrifying. He was already going out of his way to ensure that Bucky wasn’t found and harassed by the media, god knew what he went through trying to have a somewhat normal life in any other aspect of life.

“I don’t know who I want to kill more, myself or the idiots I work with. Honestly no one knows anything about anything and I’m getting real tired of Agent knowing more about my company than I do. Agent needs to fuck off,” Tony says with a surprising about of passion.

“Who the hell is Agent?” Bucky asks, “sounds like an asshole.”

“He is. He’s always got this fucking smug smile on his stupid face, it’s so condescending and I hate him. Unfortunately he’s useful so I have to deal with him until I figure out what the hell is going on with SI,” Tony says, sounding resigned to his fate with this Agent person.

“Sounds like a friend of mine Phil, he’s got a weird way of turning a smile into an insult. What’s up with SI though?” he asks. He couldn’t remember seeing anything in the news but then he didn’t really pay attention anyways, much to Steve’s chagrin. It wasn’t his fault he got bored of murder stories, if the news was something other than a crappy fear soup he might watch it. Plus Steve was always on about how the news wasn’t reliable anyways so Bucky was just skipping the ‘see what the news says’ and jumping straight to the social media. It seemed perfectly reasonable to him.

“Phil sounds like a bag of soggy dicks. And I wish I knew what the hell was happening here. We stopped making weapons, why are we selling weapons? And who the hell is making these things? Because they aren’t even made right and that’s dangerous and I know, they’re _weapons_ , obviously they’re dangerous but they’re more dangerous when they aren’t made right. Anyways I have had a very frustrating day trying to figure out who is doing what and I haven’t really gotten anywhere,” Tony says. He sounds tired too but Bucky doesn’t draw attention to it.

“Uh, what?” he asks, a little lost on context.

“Exactly, me too man,” the phone beeps and Tony swears, “shit, that’s Obi, I have to go,” he says. He swears again and Bucky hears rustling around before the call drops and he sighs. Well, that was good while it lasted.

Thankfully luck was on his side and someone knocks at the door, probably Sharon to give back that dish she borrowed the day before. He pulls himself off the couch somewhat reluctantly and goes to the door, surprised to find Wade standing there. “Uh, hi?” Bucky says, frowning because it kind of looked like Wade had been crying but he wasn’t really the crying type.

“I have cancer and I’ve got six months if I’m lucky,” he blurts out in way of an actual greeting.

Bucky opens his mouth to respond and closes it again, having no idea what to say. Instead he steps aside and lets Wade in because what the hell else did you do in a situation like this? Wade goes and throws himself of the couch, burying his face in his hands and Bucky stands there awkwardly for a moment. “Um, does Weasel know about this?” he asks, figuring Wade would be more interested in what his best friend had to say than Bucky.

“Yeah, the fucker put me on the deadpool,” he says and Bucky lets out a little bubble of hysterical laughter at the absurdity.

“Sorry,” he mumbles, feeling like an ass.

“Nah, that’ be fucking hilarious if I wasn’t the one dying. I came here because I figured you’d be less of an ass. I mean I love Weasel and you know I’d put his ass on the deadpool if he was dying but that’s not really what I’m looking for right now,” he says. Yeah, Bucky sort of figured that but Weasel was Weasel.

“What about Vanessa and Peter?” he asks, figuring at the very least Peter would be empathetic. Vanessa was more like Wade in the humor to solve all department but he figured she wouldn’t be Weasel level asshole either, but maybe he was wrong.

“Yeah, I’m not telling them about this. That would fucking destroy them, I’m getting the hell out of town before this gets bad I just need a place to stay while I figure shit out,” he says, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

“Wade, you can’t just _leave_ Vanessa and Peter, what the hell are they supposed to think?” Bucky asks, horrified at Wade’s decision.

“I don’t care what they think of me leaving, I hope they hate me enough to move on, but I am _not_ putting them through watching me die slowly. I will not do that to them, to anyone. You ever seen someone die of cancer? It’s fucking horrible, they get all skinny and green and they kind of look like they died already but they’re still animated. I’m not going to ruin their memories of my pretty face when the chemo inevitably rots the teeth right out of my face,” he says harshly and Bucky got it objectively but it was hard to think Wade was making the right decision when he was one of the people being left behind.

“And if they come here asking questions?” he asks. It wasn’t likely but they were bound to get desperate when Wade was missing for awhile, unlikely or not it was still possible.

“I don’t care what you tell them, just don’t tell them where I’m going. Please,” Wade whispers quietly, looking up at Bucky. He could see the tears now; Wade’s fear, and Bucky can’t help but feel that he’s way out of his depth here.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for cancer and a little bit of terrorism (Obadiah), and a mention of child abuse. If I missed anything let me know!

Tony frowns at his phone, confused by the fifth single word response from Bucky. It wasn’t his usual texting style and to his knowledge he wasn’t busy, which would explain the difference. He didn’t know anything for sure though so he leaves it for now, more focused on Obadiah and whatever he wanted. He was jetlagged and tired as hell but Obi insisted he come in the morning after he got home so here he was, despite being overtired. “So what is it you needed to talk to me about, Obi?” he asks, looking to get this over with as fast as possible.

“What are you looking into?” Obi asks, thankfully on the same page as Tony.

“To be honest I don’t know. Our numbers are skewed, it looks like someone is trying to copy my weapon designs and they’re failing, and it also looks like someone in SI is the one that’s behind all this. Problem with that is that there are only three people capable of fucking with the records like that and it obviously wasn’t me, or Pepper, and I doubt it was you, which means someone _stole_ the information and that’s a fucking disaster. You know what kind of shit I have stored in the company’s files, god knows what this idiot would do with some of the more dangerous designs I’ve made,” he says, running his fingers through his hair nervously.

Obi gets up and circles his desk, sitting in the chair across from Tony and gripping his shoulder, “relax, Tony, we’ll figure this out. What else do you know?” he asks but he’s got that business smile of his on. Tony isn’t sure if he’s grateful for it or if he resents it. He decides he doesn’t have time to care.

“That’s pretty much it,” he says even though that wasn’t exactly true. But there was no need to worry Obi with information he didn’t currently have any context for, like random warehouses that linked back to him in a weirdly roundabout way. It was kind of weird that things liked back to _him_ though, not the company, even if the money to fund this little project was technically company money. Agent had pointed out the obvious, he was being set up, but by who and why?

“That isn’t much information,” Obadiah points out and yeah, Tony knew that. The lack of information was the problem and every lead kept going back to him, which made no sense, even Agent agreed.

“Well that’s all I’ve got so far. I’ll keep you updated on anything new,” he says. Not that he was getting anywhere but back to himself, which was really starting to piss him off.

“Send m what you have, it’ll be easier to get to the bottom of this with more than one person looking into it,” Obadiah points out and Tony sighs, nodding. He tells Obadiah that he’ll send the information later and leaves the meeting at that, more interested in sleep than anything else.

*

Agent is giving him judgmental looks and Tony was too tired to deal with this, “what?” he asks in a tone that was harsher than he meant it to be.

“Am I the only one who’s seeing the obvious?” he asks in that weirdly friendly condescending tone.

“Clearly so how about fill me in instead of acting like an asshole,” Tony snaps. He rubs his temples in a poor attempt to rid himself of the quickly forming headache that he now had.

“Your business partner is _clearly_ setting you up. Think about it. Your systems are airtight, trust me, I have had several people try and hack you and even with records of passwords and codes they still couldn’t get past that pesky AI of yours. There is no logical way someone outside that system is getting in unless they’re as smart as you and as much as I would love to deny it your intelligence is one of a kind. Which means you’re behind this, and I don’t believe that’s true, Pepper is behind this, or Obadiah is. Out of the three which one would you be the most likely to blame?” he asks. It wasn’t that Agent was wrong, he would assume Obadiah was behind this if he was in Agent’s position too, but Tony _knew_ Obadiah. He couldn’t be behind this; he’s always been there for Tony, even when he was an annoying asshole back before he got his shit together.

“That can’t be right, someone else probably figured out how to get into the systems, I’ll get JARVIS to flush them out,” he says. Obadiah let Tony _cry_ on his shoulder at his parents’ funeral, why the hell would he frame Tony for _treason_ considering his weapons were now _everywhere_.

Agent looks like he feels bad for Tony but he keeps the pity to himself, thankfully. “Come on Stark, I know what kind of faith you put in your skills and for good reason. What’s more likely, Obadiah framing you or someone hacking your systems?” he asks.

Logically Tony knew the answer but this couldn’t be right. When Tony had that mental breakdown right after he took over the company Obadiah walked him through it, he was there for Tony when he thought things were too much, pointed out his success when he didn’t see it. He… he couldn’t have betrayed Tony like this, why would he? What did he have to gain from this? He knew that Obadiah was selfish and money hungry but he wasn’t _evil_ , he couldn’t possibly have framed Tony for treason and terrorism. “I… I don’t know, Agent. Why would he even do this? If it was someone else they would have reason, a lot of people hate me, maybe one of them figured my shit out.”

For a long moment Agent looks at Tony before taking a step closer, placing his hand on Tony’s shoulder and squeezing. “Tony, being close to you doesn’t mean that he doesn’t hate you, or resent you because of your success. He was Howard’s business partner before and it would have stood to reason that he would have gained controlling interest at least until you were old enough to run the company. But that isn’t what happened, Howard handed the company off to you right away, even if you didn’t take over until three years later. I know this must be hard for you but this is the best explanation for what’s happening,” he says quietly.

“But he’s been by my side for as long as I can remember,” Tony says almost pitifully. Agent was right, this had to be the work of Obadiah or Pepper and he couldn’t see Pepper doing this. The woman was certainly driven enough, and intelligent enough, but there was no real payout for her in the end. As much as he didn’t want to admit it Obi would get his company, his legacy, his properties, everything if he managed to successfully frame Tony.

“I know Tony, but we have to think clearly about this and this is the most likely option. I’m sorry,” Agent says and Tony can’t help but think that Agent’s movements reflected Obadiah’s earlier, the hand on the shoulder thing.

“I already told him about this, he’s expecting information by this afternoon. What the hell am I supposed to do? All the evidence points to me,” he says a little desperately.

“Then we find the real evidence. Do you have a way to access his computer?” Agent asks. Tony snorts at such a stupid question and Agent rolls his eyes, “I’ll take that as a yes. You’re going to need to get into his systems and find something and in the meantime you’re going to have to send him some bullshit report to keep him off your trail.”

Tony clenches his jaw, not overly willing to accept that Obi would do think to him but… if Obi was innocent there would be nothing to find on his computers. The fact that he was so resistant to the idea supported Obi’s guilt more than it absolved it. He sighs and nods, agreeing to send Agent anything he found right away.

*

Bucky’s one-word responses didn’t stop throughout the day and he had casually slipped a question in asking if he was doing anything. He wasn’t, which Tony took as evidence that something must be wrong. So he calls Bucky, hoping that maybe he could help and something would go right today. “Hey,” Bucky says softly, like he was too exhausted to even speak up.

“Are you alright?” Tony asks, forgetting tact in his attempt to get to the bottom of at least one issue here.

“I… well technically I’m fine but I just found out that one of my friends has terminal cancer and he’s planning on like running away or whatever. He’s terrible at dealing with problems,” Bucky says and Tony lets out a sharp laugh, regretting it immediately.

“Sorry, that was insensitive. But this sounds like one of those ridiculous cancer movies, not like a thing that would happen in real life. That’s awful,” he says genuinely.

“Weasel put him on the deadpool,” Bucky says and Tony lets out another bubble of laughter but this time he can’t rein it in right away.

“I’m going to hell for that. God, this is a disaster, I’m fucking shit in situations like this. I never know what to do and I always do something stupid like laugh at a cancer patient dying. Seriously, I don’t even believe in god or hell or whatever and I am positive I have sealed my ticket in hell with that. So um. Sorry about this,” he mumbles, unsure of where to go from here.

“‘S’okay, Wade thought the deadpool thing was funny too and honestly this does sound like the start of a bad superhero movie or something. All Wade needs is a vat of toxic goo to jump in or something. Doesn’t really make it less sad though. Weasel’s going to stick me on the deadpool twice as often now, this is horrible,” Bucky says, his voice breaking at the end of that. Tony listens awkwardly while Bucky sniffles, not knowing what the hell he was supposed to do here. He hated dealing with sadness, he couldn’t deal with his own sadness, how the hell was he supposed to deal with someone else’s sadness?

“You wanna come over?” is what comes out of his mouth instead of an awkward good bye and he kicks himself for it. Now he was going to have to deal with the tears in person if Bucky agreed. Why the hell would he do this to himself?

“Yeah… yeah that would be great,” Bucky says and Tony resists the urge to burst into tears at the thought of having to deal with someone bursting into tears. He makes some tentative plans and goes to throw himself on the couch so he doesn’t do something stupid, like get ridiculously drunk. Technically it would solve his problem if he passed out but he didn’t want to deal with Rhodey’s disappointment and Pepper’s lectures and Natasha’s glares. So he lays there for a few moments before going and finding a blanket to wrap Bucky in, hoping to hell that will do something other than make the guy cry.

When Bucky gets there things are far less awkward than he anticipates then being. Bucky leans on him, wrapping his arms around Tony’s waist and Tony hugs him back, needing the contact himself if for different reasons. “Come here,” Tony says softly, pulling Bucky along to the couch. He picks up the blanket and wraps it around his shoulders and sits down, pulling Bucky down with him. Bucky settles on the couch between Tony’s legs, curling against his chest and Tony wraps his arms around him, gently running his hands up and down Bucky’s body. He slowly relaxes against Tony and Tony finds himself relaxing too, focusing on Bucky’s breathing and the way his head was laying against Tony’s shoulder, gently pressing into his neck.

“Thank you,” Bucky murmurs, nuzzling into Tony’s neck. He lets out a shaky sigh, not realizing that he had needed this until he had it.

“‘S’not a problem,” he says softly, “it’s relaxing to me too.”

“Bad day?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah. Found out my business partner is trying frame me for treason and terrorism after spending who knows how long selling knockoff Stark weapons on the side, or at least that’s the most likely situation. I used to have a cat when I was a kid but Howard hated it with a passion, poor cat, Obadiah kept it at his house so I could keep it and now he’s framing me for _treason_ and _terrorism_. Presumably for money,” he says, floored that his life had come to this.

Bucky sits up, “Jesus, that’s horrible, Tony.” He looks concerned and Tony appreciates it, really, but he was going to be fine.

“It’ll be fine. I just have to find enough evidence to make sure he can’t pin his shit on me and Agent is on my side so there’s that.” It wasn’t much of a consolation prize but it was something he supposed. Besides, Agent was competent enough to gather information he hadn’t found right away and that one time he caught Tony fucking with the military to book time off for Rhodey. If they didn’t use Hammer tech they would have been fine so Tony felt that the government deserved to know how dumb they were for using such bad equipment. And Rhodey gave him a password or two.

“How are you supposed to do that though?” Bucky asks and it was a good question. Tony had no god damn clue, as it was he sent Obi busywork to keep him off Tony’s trail. Fortunately his phone rings, interrupting the conversation. Tony sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket with minimal difficulty, answering it while Bucky settled against his chest again. He continues to run his fingers up and down Bucky’s arm.

“Tony, did you give the press access to your medical records?” Pepper asks in a rush.

He frowns, “no, why the hell would I do that?” he asks. And what medical records did the press get ahold of? There weren’t many that would be of interest to the press…

“I had no idea that you were a sub, biologically anyways. But I think you should get retested, these results are obviously wrong but this is spreading like wildfire and I don’t know what to do,” she says and Tony closes his eyes, hoping the migraine he could feel coming on would be easily fended off.

“The results aren’t wrong, Pep, biologically speaking I _am_ a sub. Trust me, I had enough people poke and prod at me to know that those results aren’t changing regardless of how untrue they are. Listen, I need you to do me a favor and go to Obi’s office and copy his hard drive, okay? I think he might be behind this and a whole lot more, can you do that?” he asks. Of fucking course he would find some way to snoop at Tony’s records and then leak them. It would send Tony running around dealing with rumors while he cleaned up loose ends and made sure Tony was going down for his crimes.

“Of course. When do you need this done?” Pepper asks, slipping back into business mode easily enough. Bucky shifts and sits up, gesturing to Tony that he was fine before taking off but he takes the blanket with him so Tony assumes he isn’t going anywhere unless he’s stealing the blanket. Tony wouldn’t blame him; he stole the blanket from Rhodey, who stole it from some guy he worked with.

“Like now if possible, I don’t really want to know what else Obi has planned. We need to get ahead of this before it gets to the media and my name gets dragged through the mud.” As much as he didn’t care what people thought of him he sort of needed people to like him enough to buy his shit otherwise his company would tank and he’d be shit out of luck. He had no clue what things cost, Rhodey made a test once and laughed at Tony’s answers so he assumed he was way off in pricing things. Granted that was unlikely to happen but still. It was possible and he wasn’t about to encourage it.

“Alright. I’m headed to his office now, I’ll call you when I’m out, alright?” she says and he gives her the affirmative, hanging up so she could do her thing. Bucky returns then with a steaming mug and he hands it to Tony. Coffee.

“You’re a god among men,” Tony tells him, taking the mug gratefully and taking a sip of the hot liquid, burnt tongue be damned. He sets the mug aside so Bucky could sit back down without risk of being burnt or burning Tony.

“Thanks,” Bucky says, giving him a small smile before sliding back into his spot and resettling between Tony’s legs. He wraps an arm around Bucky’s shoulders and presses his lips to the top of Bucky’s head.

“Seriously, you’re awesome,” Tony tells him, picking the mug back up again. It was still too hot to drink but Tony ignores that because he needed the comfort of something familiar right now and coffee was it. He and Bucky sit in silence for several minutes, Tony slowly sipping his coffee and Bucky breathing softly against him. It was more comforting than Tony would have thought it would be and he’s reminded, for some reason, of Riley’s words some time ago. That he needed to engage his dominant side more or it would cause him distress or some shit. He didn’t want to admit that maybe the therapist had a point but this was surprisingly calming and after that night he and Bucky planned that scene he slept better than he had in years. Since his mid twenties to be exact.

Bucky shifts slightly against him, raising his head before lightly gripping Tony’s mug and taking a drink of the liquid himself. Tony is surprisingly focused on the action, watching closely as Bucky drank, licking his lips before laying his head back against his chest. Sharing food has always been a thing for Tony, it was personal and it was important to create a connection and take care of your partner- Tony found sharing food was a way to do both. He never really considered sharing coffee of all things but Bucky was basically everything he had ever asked for with a metal arm to boot, of course he would pick up on something Tony didn’t know he had wanted until now. “Are you okay?” Bucky asks, shuffling around to switch his position, looking up at Tony.

“I’m okay, mostly thanks to you. Coffee?” he asks, raising the cup. Bucky grins, apparently having caught onto Tony’s not at all subtle hint and taking the cup. They trade the mug back and forth until Tony’s phone rings again, Pepper according to the caller I.D. He answers, frowning into the receiver at Pepper’s labored breathing.

“Oh my god that was the scariest thing I have ever done, he _caught_ me in there and he so didn’t buy my excuse about grabbing some file for you and he grabbed my arm on my way out and I _swear_ he was going to strangle me or something but some poor intern saved me. I ran like hell, I’m in a cab now,” she says in a rush.

“Are you alright?” he asks. Pepper sounded genuinely distraught and she was not the type to be flustered by much of anything.

“I’m fine, I’m on my way home now,” she says and she sounds marginally calmer.

“Is Natasha home?” Normally he wouldn’t care but the situation wasn’t exactly normal…

“No, she’s out of town, why?” Pepper asks.

“Than don’t go home, he knows where you live. Come here,” he says. God knows what Obi would do if he found Pepper at home alone. Assuming he was doing something wrong and as much as Tony didn’t want to admit it but he was acting very suspicious…

“He knows where you live too,” Pepper says, deadpan.

“Yeah, but he has to get through security and JARVIS,” Tony points out, “I can tell Happy to tell everyone else to not let him in and even if he gets past them JARVIS will have called the cops way before he actually gets to us. You barely have a deadbolt,” he points out. It technically wasn’t true, Pepper had a doorman that was two days away from keeling over dead and Natasha had installed a security system but that wasn’t JARVIS, Tony didn’t trust it. Pepper reluctantly agrees and Tony relaxes some. He hangs up, content with the knowledge that she was on her way here, hopefully with Obi’s information. He had forgot to ask about that in his haste in getting Pepper to safety. Shit.

He doesn’t get much time to think about it because his phone rings again. He half expects it to be Pepper with some other bit of information but it’s Obadiah instead. Shit. For a moment he debates on not answering it but that wasn’t really an option so he sighs and answers. “Obi, hey, shouldn’t you be headed home by now?” he asks casually. He doesn’t even sound nervous and for the first time in his life he thanks Howard for being such a piece of shit. It wasn’t as if he was ever given a lot of time to prepare for leaving his abusive household directly into a mess of cameras, he always had to look perfect and happy and now that skill was useful to him.

Bucky’s head snaps up and he looks worried. Tony squeezes his arm gently to try and calm him but it doesn’t really do much. “Yeah, yeah, I’m headed home soon. But listen, I caught your assistant snooping around in here earlier, any idea what she was after?” he asks and Tony thanks his lucky stars Pepper managed to call before Obi.

“Some file or something. I don’t know, you know I can’t keep the paperwork straight; I probably needed to sign something or something like that. You know how it is,” he says. He hoped that that matched Pepper’s story enough to be plausible. As it was it was believable that he didn’t know exactly what Pepper was looking for, and that he needed to sign something, but if Pepper hadn’t mentioned those things than the story would be off enough for Obi to be on edge. He was already on edge as it was thanks to Tony deciding to be an idiot and telling Obi about his findings. _Damnit_.

“Ahh. Well could it have waited until the morning?” Obadiah asks.

“It’s Pepper, nothing can wait till the morning,” he says and thankfully he doesn’t have to fake that joke. It was a long-standing source of humor between him and Obi, that Pepper never did seem to go home.

Thankfully Obi laughs, “true, true. Next time I would appreciate a heads up though, never know what she’s going to find,” he says in an almost ominous tone.

“Yeah, I’m sure she isn’t going to care about porn stash Obi, do you not remember some of the shit she’s walked in on me doing? That poor woman needs a raise,” he says, only half joking about that. Pepper probably needed therapy and brain bleach to get rid of the mental images he’s given her but in his defense Natasha made up for a lot of it in recent years.

Bucky shifts himself closer to the phone and lets out an annoyed moan, “do you _have_ to take a business call _now_ ,” he says in a whiny tone. Tony frowns at him for a moment, wondering where the hell _that_ came from before he catches on. Bucky rolls his eyes at his slowness.

“Yeah, listen, I’m in the middle of something so I gotta go,” Tony says, shaking his head at Bucky.

“Please tell me you did not answer the phone in the middle of sex,” Obi says. He was no stranger to the situation either.

“I didn’t answer the phone during sex,” he says, technically truthful.

“Did _so_ ,” Bucky mumbles in an irritated tone, “so _hang up_ and finish this.” Obi makes a noise of disgust and hangs up immediately, saving Tony from an uncomfortable conversation.

“You just might be the greatest person to have ever walked this earth,” Tony tells Bucky, grinning at him.

“Well, the guy is trying to frame you for treason and terrorism. I didn’t think you’d want to have an extended conversation with the guy and his age puts him right in that weird space after World War Two when everyone decided that sex was immoral and wrong and no one talked about it for like ten years before the new generation collectively decided fuck that. I can’t believe those vanilla movements are still around though, who the hell seriously thinks that BDSM is immoral? Idiots. Anyways, having been a teen right in the middle of that weird ten-year span I figured sex might wig him out. Obviously I was right,” Bucky says.

“It helps that I actually have taken calls in the middle of sex but hey, look at that, you’re history knowledge saved me. Thanks,” he says.

“And people say history is boring. My history knowledge just saved you from a terrorist, clearly it isn’t boring,” Bucky says, nose in the air.

“Yeah, yeah. But you’re the weird guy who reads demonology in his spare time, and now I guess you can add saving your Dom from his terrorist business partner to that. Pepper should be here soon, you’ll like her, she’s a badass too.” Bucky flushes a bit at the praise and Tony hugs him closer, burying his nose into Bucky’s long hair, happy that he was here.


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for child abuse, implied torture, murder, a little bit of terrorism (mentioned) and I think that's it. This chapter covers some of Natasha's backstory to give you a general idea of what you're walking into. 
> 
> I have no idea how this turned into a lot of Pepper/ Nat feels but here ya go!

Natasha looks wide-eyed and lost and that wasn’t a familiar look for her. “Are you okay?” Tony asks, frowning. Pepper had called her, obviously freaked out over the whole Obi thing, but Natasha seemed to be having some trouble dealing with things.

“I… no I’m not okay, I don’t do this okay? I keep the play in the bedroom only and it’s getting everywhere and I don’t know what to do with that,” she says. He’d ask of Natasha has talked to Pepper about this but he knew that she has, Pepper was methodical and there was no way that she hadn’t noticed Natasha’s floundering and addressed it. The problem was that she really wasn’t in the right mind to deal with this right now and neither was Natasha.

“Hey, it’s alright, you’ve dealt with situations way scarier than this I’m sure. I mean your job is so top secret you can’t actually tell people what you do, that’s got to be more stressful than this,” Tony points out. Unhelpful, but it was something he supposed.

“I can assure you that it is not. I can handle people trying to kill me; I don’t know what to do with a sub that’s freaking out over something that isn’t directly related to a scene. What do I do? Rip out Obadiah’s windpipe? Because that’s tempting,” she says. Yeah, it was tempting to Tony too considering Agent called ten minutes ago saying he had more than enough information to implicate Obadiah in a number of different crimes, some that involved SI and some that didn’t.

“As much as we would all enjoy that no. You don’t really have to do much, all she needs is for you to be there for her,” Tony says. Natasha gives him a look that suggests that’s a lot harder than it sounded and he didn’t get it. Too be fair she was just as confused as he was so at least they were on the same page there.

“And how do I do that? Pet her head and tell her everything is going to be okay?” she asks.

“Basically. She just needs some comfort so like… hug her and hold onto her for a while until she calms down some.” Natasha frowns and her eyebrows draw together and Tony swears he’s had an easier time explaining rocket science to ten year olds.

“That doesn’t really fix anything, how’s that supposed to help?” she asks, waving a hand around.

“Next time I think I am emotionally incompetent I’m going to remember this conversation,” he says.

“Fuck you Stark.” Natasha flips him off, ever eloquent, and Tony sighs.

“Comfort doesn’t need to solve the problem, it’s supposed to make the person feel better. Has no one comforted you ever?” he asks, floored on how Natasha could be so lost.

“No, actually, I haven’t been comforted ever. Thanks for reminding me. Now I’m going to go off to try and comfort Pepper because that’s less painful than having a conversation with your dense ass,” she says, rolling her eyes at him.

“Happy to help!” he tells her as she walks off, flipping him off again over her shoulder.

*

“I’m fine, Natasha, you don’t need to try and… to be honest I’m not even certain what you’re trying to do,” Pepper says. Well, patting her head was out though in hindsight she probably should have known that. Pepper wasn’t a dog, why would that be at all comforting?

“Sorry,” she mumbles. “You aren’t fine though, you’re shaken and I understand why you would be. You were in a high stress situation with someone that was an immediate threat to your safety, it’s normal to be upset after that,” she says. She sounds like she’s reading from a textbook and to be fair she sort of was. Comfort… well, emotion in general, wasn’t her thing and it never has been. Her up bringing did not allow for her to be good with these sorts of things and if it weren’t for aftercare being necessary she would probably have been lost on that too. The only way she was any good at these things was if she was pretending to be someone else and Pepper didn’t deserve that. She wasn’t a mission and Natasha was not going to treat her like one, it was cruel.

“I know you’re trying to help but I’m fine, Natasha,” Pepper tells her but Natasha isn’t an idiot. She might not know much about comfort but she knew stress and fear when she saw it, she’s spent her entire life dealing with the aftermath of traumatic situations, she at least knew how to recognize when someone has been stretched too thin.

“Your hands are shaking, your breathing is labored, and you keep fidgeting around. None of those behaviors are normal for you and I know at least two of those things are a sign of stress because you get like this before big meetings too. You are not fine; you need… a stress blanket or something. Do those actually work?” she asks more to herself than Pepper.

“Oh Natasha, this is painful, just leave me be,” Pepper says, pleads really. Natasha has made up her mind though, Pepper needed care and she was going to figure out some way to provide her with it. She looks around the room for a moment before locating a blanket and pulling it from its place and draping it over her shoulders. She examines Pepper for a moment before pulling the clip from her hair and letting it fall loose, gently brushing it out of her face and Pepper lets out a soft noise. Ha, she knew she could figure this out.

She sits beside Pepper on the bed, gently drawing her into a hug and Pepper goes easily enough, wrapping her arms around Natasha’s waist. Natasha was mildly uncomfortable with this but she ignores it in favor of trying to take care of Pepper. It would be easy, she thinks, to be Natalia. She knew how to deal with these things, how to handle emotion, how to use emotion like a weapon against whomever was necessary. And that was why she avoided slipping into her long-standing role, it was a tool of manipulation, hurt, and pain and that wasn’t exactly what she was going for with Pepper.

“Are you alright?” Pepper asks after a moment.

Natasha sighs and slumps a little, “am I so bad at this that you’ve decided that _I_ need comfort?” she asks, upset with her inability to be a normal person.

“Not exactly, but you are a bit stiff,” Pepper says, “but that doesn’t answer my question.” There were many upsides to dating Pepper but there was one downside; she always knew when something was off, even when Natasha worked to hide it. She’d fooled the best of the best, out spied the best of spies, tricked some of the most powerful people in the world into giving her information and yet she couldn’t fool Pepper Potts. Maybe it was a blessing that Natasha couldn’t avoid being herself with Pepper, she’s had more than one relationship fail because it was ‘like she was two different people’ and everyone liked Natalie better. She didn’t blame them, Natalie wasn’t painfully awkward with everything, she didn’t have an inability to connect to her peers, and she was a far smoother talker. The only downside was that she was planning how to kill you or fuck you over so badly you’d never recover. Boy was it a kick in the junk to know people preferred _that_ to _her_.

Finally she sighs, pulling away from Pepper and standing up. “You’ve asked about my past before,” she says slowly, testing the words out.

“And you’ve told me that your past is your own and that I have no business asking. You weren’t wrong, Natasha,” Pepper says firmly. Giving her an out of course, because Pepper was always good at feeling out people’s limits. So was Natasha, except she wanted to exploit them, not respect them.

“So it is, but my past is the reason I am the way I am and to a point you deserve to know about it.” Just the things that were relevant, the things that affected their relationship. There were things she would never tell anyone, things so terrible they should never see the light of day again.

“Natasha…” Pepper says softly, giving her a pitying look.

“Don’t look at me like that, I don’t need your pity or anyone else’s. And I realize this is terrible timing but you’re expecting a relationship out of me and I’m not even sure I can provide that,” she says honestly. She was not built to love and care, that was stripped away a long time ago. Pepper opens her mouth to respond but Natasha waves her off.

“Just let me speak before you tell me that isn’t true. When I was a child I was kidnapped from my home and put into a secret government program in Russia, we called it the Red Room. I’m not sure what they called it,” she lies. It was called the Black Widow Program and it was labeled a failure because of her. “But the intent was to train a team of elite spies, the best in the world. We went through a number of tests; I’ll spare you the details. The point is that by the end of the program, by the time I broke free, I learned that emotion was a weakness and it got you killed. Touch was something you used to tantalize and tease to extract information. Emotion was to be turned into a weapon against the sorry soul who dared to feel and I’m good at those things, at least if I’m not myself. I call her Natalie, they called her successful. I could be everything you ever wanted, but that wouldn’t be honest and that’s why I’m bad at this, because _I_ have no idea how to feel. That’s reserved for a person who uses those things for her own benefit.”

She leaves it at that, which leaves out most of the details of her detainment. She was kidnapped when she was seven, she killed her parents in cold blood when she was twelve so she had no remaining loyalties, she murdered he best friend when she was fifteen because that was not allowed, and she went on a murder spree when she turned on her handlers. They wanted her to have no attachments, no emotions. They wanted a cold-blooded killer and she swore they were so surprised when she realized they were a loyalty too, and loyalties were not allowed. It took her years to break down the walls between herself and Natalie. For a long time she didn’t even know there was a difference but Fury was adamant that there was. She owed her future to him. All in all if she were to relive all of that again she’d change everything except for the very end. She’d look Ivan dead in the eyes and pull the trigger all day every day if she was afforded to. Piece of shit, he was too good for what he got.

“Jesus _Christ_ , Natasha. So all this time you’ve been trying to be more… I don’t know, emotional and you’ve essentially been forcing yourself to relive your trauma over and over again? I know that you didn’t want to share your past with me but shit, Tash, you needed to safe word out of this a long, _long_ time ago. Oh god, I’ve basically been torturing you for months,” Pepper says, running her hands through her hair nervously. This was the exact _opposite_ of what Natasha had been going for and this is why she didn’t do these things, she always found a way to ruin them. “You haven’t ruined anything,” Pepper tells her and she realizes belatedly that she said that out loud, “you just… need some help finding your limits. Apparently they’re more harshly defined than either one of us knew.”

“I don’t need to reevaluate my limits, I know exactly where they are, thank you,” she says primly. If she didn’t she would have died a long time ago, it was one thing she could thank her handlers for.

“Yes, Natasha you do. How much of our relationship has been making you uncomfortable and for how long? That isn’t normal, Natasha, and it doesn’t require _you_ to change, it requires our dynamic to change. You’ve… been through things, I’m sure that you know plenty of ways to hurt a person without actually laying a finger on them. Now think of how many of those things I’ve been doing to you without me knowing,” she says. Natasha, because Pepper was being very serious, humors her, flicking through a long list and applying them to their relationship. “See? That’s a problem,” Pepper says when Natasha’s eyes widen, “this needs to change like months ago, probably. When we get done with Obadiah we’re having a very long discussion,” Pepper says in an overly serious tone that Natasha would have teased her for if not for the situation.

“I’ll be fine, I just need to get over it,” she says somewhat petulantly. All she needed to do was feel like a normal goddamn person, she could manage that much she just needed time to get it right.

“No, Natasha, you’re fine just the way you are. There’s a reason that you’re the only person I’ve ever had a stable long-term relationship with and that’s probably because you know how to feel better than anyone else I know. I know that you don’t believe that but I’ve had people tell me my whole life that I’d never be good enough for someone. I’m too career driven, too headstrong, too selfish or self involved, too disinterested in children and family. It isn’t like I lack the motivation to put effort into a long distance relationship; I have, but no one I’ve dated before you could handle it. I was always too far away, too close to Tony; I cared about everything but them. Honestly it was exhausting having to constantly reaffirm that my work obligations didn’t mean that I didn’t care. But you never had that problem, you worked a lot too and instead of complaining about all the time I spent away you enjoyed the time we had together. That made all the difference, Natasha,” she says in a strong, clear voice. She believed her words but she was not the first person Natasha has met that believed their own story. It was weirdly common.

“That’s because I know how to compartmentalize my feelings, that doesn’t mean I care more than other people, it probably means I care less,” she reasons. Were normal people supposed to be put off by long distance relationships? She never saw the problem, if she cared about Pepper why did it matter how far away from each other they were? The only issue that she had was that itchy feeling she got under her skin when he hadn’t Dommed someone in awhile and she had long ago learned to manage that. Pepper, she learned, was fine because she had other avenues of letting out her instinct to submit.

Admittedly it was a little odd that her relationship with her boss crossed boundaries in that way but after spending a few months gathering information on Tony it appeared he was aware of the dynamic and he knew his place. He and Pepper must have worked something out a long time ago because the dynamic was stable and subtle; it took effort for her to find it. Honestly it seemed they acted out their roles as Dom and sub in a way that was strictly meant to avoid any adverse mental health effects that would come with not indulging the instinct. It was clever, actually. Besides, Pepper was by no means Tony’s sub; half of her time was spent wrangling Tony into doing things, not on her knees. _Then_ Natasha would have had a problem.

“That isn’t true and somewhere in there you know it. It takes a lot of care and communication to maintain a long distance relationship and I’ve never had to work at it with you. You understand when I’m too busy with work to talk and I understand that with you too. We’ve found other ways to show affection than what some people would consider normal and that’s alright, we should foster that, not try and stick ourselves into a box that doesn’t support our relationship dynamic however ‘normal’ that box may be. I am going to have to ask you to take up that threat to rip Obadiah Stane’s eyes out, though. That man needs to _go_ ,” she says harshly.

Natasha smiles slowly, “if you’d like I could draw it out,” she says.

“Do whatever you need to do to make him suffer.”

*

“My favorite thing about your life being public record is that I can Google ridiculous shit about you and actually get results,” Bucky says, grinning down at the StarkPad he was holding. Tony’s absurd answers to stupid interview questions were the perfect distraction to dying Wade and terrorist Obadiah. Besides, the couch was comfortable and the blanket he had was soft.

Tony comes up behind him, placing his hands on Bucky’s shoulders and massaging gently, “what exactly are you Googling, because anything in the nineties should just be erased from the planet, I had a bit of a cocaine problem then and nothing I said made any sense,” he says, frowning. Bucky leans into his touch, grateful to have the comfort, especially when poor Tony had his own steaming pile of shit to deal with.

“Well that explains why your answers from the nineties are the best,” he says, “though I’m glad that you got over that problem, obviously. But so far your worst fears are long bathroom lines, small dogs because they look like large rats but you aren’t afraid of large rats, Ouija boards but that’s legit, and the leg hair of clowns. I have to admit that last one is honestly the greatest thing I have ever heard. I’ve heard of people being afraid of clowns, and the lack of hair in any shaving commercial ever indicates a weird fear of hair, but I’ve never heard of anyone being afraid of a clown’s leg hair. You’re the best,” he says meaningfully, grinning up at Tony.

“Okay you know what, clowns as a whole are unsettling and they need to go. I watched It and that was that. Never again, no thank you Tim Curry, he might have been hot in Rocky Horror but he was the stuff of nightmares in that movie. Honestly fuck that, Rhodey agrees,” he says. Bucky knew how that felt, he and Steve decided to watch it sometime in their early twenties, having not been swayed to see it when it first came out, and were fucking terrified of bathroom sinks for years. Admittedly when people thought they were dating because they used to go to the bathroom together that had been fair, that was a little weird. But they also weren’t about to die so they were the real winners.

“Honestly it was The Shining that got me if we’re talking Steven King movies. More so when my girlfriend at the time said that elevator opening and blood pouring out was exactly like sneezing on your period. But that’s mostly because I felt bad for any sorry soul who owned a uterus at that point. Could you imagine?” he says, shuddering. It was at that point that he had been ecstatic to have gotten luck of the draw and a penis.

“Thankfully no, but Pep’s given me a few horror stories. She says I’d never be able to handle it because I’m a baby when it comes to pain and she’s probably right. I whine for hours when I get paper cuts,” Tony says. Bucky so wanted to see video footage of Tony whining about paper cuts but he’d figure that out later.

“Oh look, that’s another fear of yours, paper cuts, and bad scotch. Brushing Rhodey’s hair? What? Why would you be afraid of brushing Rhodey’s hair?” he asks. That seemed a bit odd but then some of the other options were more than a little odd too.

“Do you have any idea what kind of work goes into natural hair? I’d be terrified to mess it up and make poor Rhodey look like a fool. Thankfully he’s bald so I don’t have to worry about it. I dread the day he leaves the military and goes through a mid-life crisis and tries to relive his teen years by regrowing his fro. It didn’t even look good on him but he loved it so don’t ever tell him I said that. Plus I had that neon phase so I really should talk about bad style choices,” he says, looking off into the distance, remembering his embarrassing teen years.

“Okay but I think we should be questioning your style choices in the early two thousands. Did NASA launch a space program that you got admitted to and didn’t tell anyone about?” he asks, pulling up a picture of Tony in a bad space age looking silver suit complete with a bright turquoise shirt with a wide open collar. Honestly Bucky would have been embarrassed to be seen in his _house_ with this thing let alone in public.

“The early thousands were a dark time for everyone,” Tony says cryptically. Someone knocks on the door and Bucky jumps unintentionally, earning a few soothing noises from Tony, who informs him it was Agent. Well, at least Bucky finally got to meet the guy that vexed Tony so much, he guessed anyways. He kind of preferred if that was never a thing but here he was. Tony goes to the door and Bucky spies the redhead that wasn’t Pepper poking her head out from the hallway, glaring at the door.

“Agent,” Tony says with too much enthusiasm, “give me all your information and get out.”

“Please Stark, as if I’d ever spend time here willingly,” a familiar snarky voice says.

“Coulson?” the redhead says, beating Bucky to speaking.

Phil, as in _his_ Phil, nods in the redhead’s direction, “Natasha,” he says casually.

“Phil?” Bucky asks, shocked that he was Tony’s Agent.

He gets a nod too, “Bucky,” he says in a cool crisp tone. Probably his professional voice.

“Agent?” Tony asks, frowning.

“Mr. Stark,” Phil says, giving him that passive aggressive smile he only gave people he disliked.

“Okay, what the fuck?” Bucky says, voicing what everyone is thinking.

“We all know each other, I babysat Stark years ago when he hacked into some very important systems, I used to be Natasha’s handler, and I’ve been friends with Bucky for years, there, now we’re all caught up. Oh, and Stark, no need to give Bucky suspicious looks, he’s never been a spy and frankly he’d be bad at it. He didn’t even realize his very in love best friend was in love with him, he isn’t to be trusted with top secret government information,” Phil says.

“Hey,” Bucky mumbles, “it isn’t my fault I didn’t realize Steve was in love with me. I thought he was just being a good friend.”

“And that’s why you’d make a bad spy. We need to be able to read all information, including what we get from bodies. Speaking of- Stane has a very high body count and he’s done a good job of trying to pin it on you but I’m awesome and I have information,” Phil informs them, chest puffed out in pride.

“Does Clint know you’re here?” Bucky asks.

“Oh please, get your Dom to throw a collar and a leash on you. And muzzle,” Tony adds, giving Phil’s mouth a distasteful look.

“Bucky, please stick a gag in your Dom’s mouth. And I got Clint into some show on Netflix that has ten seasons; he doesn’t even know I’m gone. I’m going to send the person who invented Netflix a gift basket.”

“Just give me the information on Stane and do something about the fact that he pulls a lot of weight in my company,” Tony says, rolling his eyes at Phil.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, attempt two at writing some sensual BDSM and hopefully it's better than the admittedly bad first try. This one includes hair brushing, a massage, and drawing. I'm pretty sure that's it for warnings, if not just let me know and I'll add to the note.

“Am I the only one that’s a little mad that we all knew Phil and didn’t know it?” Bucky asks.

“No, and you even said Agent reminded you of your friend and it turned out he _is_ your friend. I dislike Agent more now,” Tony says, giving Phil a suspicious glare. He's chatting with Natasha, who was going over some information that Phil had gathered. Bucky was so tempted to tattle on him to Clint just because he was annoyed that Phil knew Tony far before he vetted him for Bucky and pretended he didn’t know him at all. Now he half assed wondered what else Phil had casually kept secret in the name of national security or whatever.

He would have responded to Tony’s comment but Phil and Natasha come back over with their stack of paperwork, “you’re going to have to do the math here, I’m an agent, not a mathematician. Also I’m lazy and I don’t like you so making you do work brings me great pleasure,” Phil says, that pleasant smile gracing his features as he handed Tony a bunch of files.

“Jokes on you Agent, I like math and I find it calming,” Tony says, snatching the files out of Phil’s hand, nose in the air.

“What the fuck? Math is the devil and it needs to be eradicated,” Bucky says. Tony looks hilariously offended by this statement but Phil and Natasha snicker.

*

Bucky is a little apprehensive about this but Tony was right, he's stressed and that wasn’t going to do him any good. Plus Tony was stressed too, understandably, and he could use something to calm him as well. He agrees because he needed to relax but also because he was curious to see if Tony could manage. He knew he was difficult to manage even before Brock came around because he was always nervous that someone, somehow, would figure out that biologically speaking he wasn’t a sub. Then Brock came around and confirmed all his worst fears and it made him doubly nervous. Being in a stressful situation wasn’t bound to help either but he kneels at the end of Tony’s bed like he was instructed to, facing away from it.

He can hear Tony moving around doing whatever it was that he needed to and he waits patiently even if he felt more like pacing than sitting. When the music starts playing Bucky focuses on that instead of Tony’s shuffling around because the soft sounds of the classical music were a pleasant release from listening to Tony’s scrambling around. Admittedly he didn’t listen to a huge amount of classical, he usually preferred lyrics, but this was nice. Lyrics would be distracting at the moment and the soft notes filtering through the air were slow and steady and the distinct opposite of all the shit that was going on right now. The slow methodical piano notes were a pleasant and welcome distraction to his currently high traffic, high stress life and he embraced the music, letting the sounds wash over him.

The sounds were beautiful, soft, and the low notes were captivating. He takes comfort in the heavy structure of the song, anticipating how the sounds were going to progress and change, creating a slow and careful melody that calmed Bucky’s nerves some. The piano was a steady and predictable weight to the world, speeding up slightly and slowing as the song came to a crescendo and began it’s final notes, ending on a pleasant note before the next song begins to play. It was slightly more upbeat than the first and had more instruments but still stuck with a lot of strings. The notes were higher and held more structure in part because there were more instruments involved but the sounds was just as sweet and relaxing.

He feels more than hears Tony sit behind him on the bed, gently touching his hair, pulling it back from his face and over his shoulders. He probably should get it cut but he sort of liked the extra length of it now. Tony doesn’t say much of anything as he gently pulls Bucky closer and Bucky goes, leaning back some to give Tony better access. A new song begins to play as Bucky feels the brush moving through his hair, detangling the strands that he hadn’t brushed in far too long. Tony is gentle with it, carefully pulling the knots free until the brush flows smoothly through the silky locks. The brush moves rhythmically down his scalp and through the rest of his hair as Tony hums along with the current song, seemingly familiar with the progression of the music. He listens to the low hum of Tony’s voice, feeling the gentle pull of his hair as the brush moved through it.

The brush moves away from his hair but the sensation isn’t gone for long. Tony’s fingers brush through the long strands instead, gently pulling the hair back before his fingers return to Bucky’s scalp. He gently massages the roots of Bucky’s hair and he sighs, leaning heavier into Tony’s hands. “Good,” Tony murmurs and a shiver runs down Bucky’s spine at the praise. Tony’s fingers knead at his scalp, slowly moving down towards the back of his head. The touch is relaxing, calming, and Bucky sinks into it, allowing himself to let go just a little so he could properly enjoy the way Tony’s fingers massaged around the edges of his ears. “You okay?” Tony asks after a moment.

“‘M’fine,” he mumbles, slurring the words out with more trouble than he anticipated.

“That’s good,” Tony tells him, “you’re doing really well but I’m gunna have to get you to let go a little bit more for me, okay?” he says, hot breath hitting the back of his neck. Bucky sighs and nods after only a moment, knowing that he needed this and that Tony wasn’t likely to hurt him. Even if he was Phil was two rooms away and he’s seen fist hand what Phil could do with just a little will power and a lot of fury. “You sure you’re alright?” Tony asks, gently pulling his fingers through Bucky’s hair.

“Yeah m’okay,” he says softly.

“Alright,” Tony says after a moment, “what’s your safe word?” he asks.

“Nettles,” Bucky says, sparing a glance over his shoulder.

“Good. Remember to use it if you need to.” Tony pulls his fingers though Bucky’s hair again, this time gathering it at all into a ponytail in the middle of his head before he wraps a rubber band around the hair once, twice, pulling it through a third time but leaving it in at bun. “Now take your shirt off and lay down on the bed, face down,” Tony instructs. He pulls himself off the bed and walks elsewhere, leaving Bucky to follow his instructions. He does, obviously, folding the shirt neatly and leaving it where he was sitting before crawling onto the bed, savoring the feeling he got as he sunk into the mattress. Tony shuffles around on the other side of the bed and Bucky shifts so his arms were tucked under the pillow his head was on.

“You sleep on a cloud,” Bucky mumbles. The blankets were soft too, not at all like the scratchy cheap one he owned and he was one hundred percent jealous.

“‘Course I do, I’m rich,” Tony says. Bucky can hear the grin in the tone he uses and he smiles back, snorting lightly. He feels the dip in the bed as Tony climbs in, crawling over to Bucky and pausing for a moment before throwing a leg over Bucky’s hips and sitting on his ass. “You have a seriously firm butt, I could bounce a quarter off this.” Tony makes a pleased noise and Bucky grins.

“Thanks,” he says. His ass was easily one of his best features, and his hair but he didn’t usually put an effort into making it look as pretty as it could be. Steve used to wax poetic about his eyes but after the revelation that he’d been creepily pining after him that kind of ruined the whole thing.

“Shh,” Tony murmurs, placing his hand in the middle of Bucky’s back. The warmth from Tony’s hand was enough to remind him of what kind of headspace he was supposed to be in and he calms some, taking a deep breath and focusing on Tony. “Good,” Tony murmurs, letting out a shuddery breath when Bucky shivers in response. He hears the cap of something open and Tony’s hand leaves his back for a moment, resulting in him making a noise of discontentment at the loss. Tony laughs softly and tells him to be patient so Bucky waits, even though he didn’t want to. It takes a few moments but Tony’s hands are back on him, smoothing what Bucky presumed to be either lotion or oil up his back.

He sinks into the contact, letting out a soft noise of pleasure and Tony’s hands reach his neck and tenderly massage the muscles there. Tony huffs out a laugh as Bucky tilts his head to give Tony better access, fingers pressing into the muscles there a little harder. Slowly Tony works his way down Bucky’s back, avoiding the metal shoulder without question thankfully, kneading at the tense muscles there. Tony clearly knows what he’s doing, expertly working the knots out of his muscles as he hums along to the tune of the song that was currently playing softly in the background. He blends the massage in with simple petting, running his hands over Bucky’s back, his sides, down his neck, and curving over the half of Bucky’s jaw that wasn’t currently on a pillow. Tony trails his fingers lightly down Bucky’s spine and he shivers at the touch, groaning when Tony follows the touch with working out a particularly stubborn knot in his back.

When Tony’s hands leave his back he whines and Tony gently brushes a strand of hair that had fallen out of his bun out of his face, “shh, you’re doing great,” Tony murmurs, “so good.” The tingly feeling from the praise hits him somewhat suddenly, leaving his brain feeling somewhat fuzzy and hazy. Tony shifts his position, moving away, and Bucky lifts his head some to see where he was going. “Hey, shh, lay back down,” Tony says softly, “I’m not going far baby, just to the night stand.” He presses a kiss to the underside of Bucky’s jaw and Bucky tilts his head to give Tony better access but he’s already moving away again. Bucky lets out an annoyed huff but leaves Tony to it, instead focusing on the tingling that still lingered from Tony’s earlier words.

It was a pleasant feeling, like his whole body is relaxed and floating, just out of reach from the real world. He can feel when Tony shifts back, noting it dimly in his mind, before he feels Tony’s hands settle back on his hips. “You okay?” he asks, gently petting Bucky’s sides.

Bucky means to say he’s fine but it comes out more like a garbled mess and Tony takes in a sharp breath, “are you in subspace?” he asks.

“Close,” Bucky mumbles, managing to actually form the word this time. Tony shivers on top of him and Bucky lets out a small moan of pleasure at having satisfied his Dom.

“Let go, baby,” Tony whispers, “it’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bucky does, dropping fast as a wave of pleasure and tingles wash over his skin, leaving him aware of only Tony’s weight on his back, his hands on his sides, and his breath in his ear. He hears Tony’s quiet ‘oh fuck’, no doubt feeling Bucky dropping himself and Bucky shudders. Tony kisses the underside of his jaw again, trailing the kisses down and over his shoulder, murmuring praise along the way and stroking Bucky’s sides. He remains dimly aware of Tony’s movements, feeling as a warm cloth is dragged down his back, presumably to remove whatever it was Tony used to massage him, before the sensation is replaced with another. It occurs to Bucky that he had no idea if the marker Tony was currently using on his back would come off or not but he lets the worry go, content to focus on Tony’s work.

This had been the point of Tony’s buildup anyways, to figure out the math on Obadiah’s underhanded business practices so that Phil could go about doing more spy things. Bucky had been apprehensive when Tony suggested it, having no idea how that could possibly work but he wasn’t complaining about it now. Occasionally Tony would pause to pet Bucky’s hips, his hair, gently trailing his fingers over his back, and to wipe off his back with a warm cloth and start his math over. He supposed that unintentionally answered his question about having math all over his back.

In the meantime Bucky focuses on Tony’s breathing, where his hands are, the way he tapped his fingers against Bucky’s ribcage when he paused in his writing. Occasionally the music in the background would swell and he’d focus on that for a moment before is faded back into the distance, replaced by Tony’s actions. Eventually Bucky looses focus of that too, falling deeper into subspace and letting the airy, detached feeling take over for awhile. There was no thinking, no worry, no stress, there wasn’t anything at all and he wanted to stay there forever.

For a long while Tony works, dragging the felt tip of the marker he was using over Bucky’s sensitive skin. Bucky has no idea what Tony is mapping out or if he’s even making progress at all. The best he could do in his current state was identifying the occasional number if he concentrated but that was work. Instead he focuses on the feeling of the marker and Tony’s hands, noting when a new area of his back was used and the way Tony shifted to access it properly. That, and the occasional swipe of the cloth to clear his work and start over, drawing the marker over his skin again but writing out something new.

Tony shifting positions again was what drew him back to a semi state of awareness; his mind dimly informing him that Tony was moving but it wasn’t enough to draw any motion out of his body. He comes back shortly after though, running that warm cloth over his back again and kissing Bucky’s temple softly. He can feel Tony’s breath tickle his ear as some escaped hairs brushed against it but it takes a few more tries for Tony to hear Bucky’s voice. “There you go,” Tony says softly, “come back to me baby. You did so well today, so good,” he croons. Bucky sighs, wanting to cling longer but Tony calls his name again so he blinks himself back into awareness, the music from the background seeming so much louder now that he could properly perceive it. “That’s it,” Tony murmurs, “that’s what I want to see.”

Bucky makes a noise of protest, stretching himself out as much as possible without jostling Tony too much on his back. “Coulda let me stay down longer,” he mumbles at Tony.

“I could have, but it’s five in the morning and I figured you’d want to sleep,” he says.

It takes a few blinks to process that, “wait, what? It’s been _five hours_? How are you not sore?” he asks. Surely Tony’s legs cramped up long ago given the position he was in, especially after holding the position with minimal moving for so long.

Tony frowns and moves experimentally, making a face and groaning as he falls sideways off Bucky’s back. “My poor legs,” he mumbles, “I didn’t even _notice_.” Bucky gives him a skeptical look but he shifts his position, stretching out and finding his muscles pleasantly loose. He takes one of Tony’s legs into his lap and gently massages the calf, earning a soft moan from Tony. “You’re the best sub ever, seriously. I wanna keep you forever.” Bucky grins, his cheeks heating slightly at the comment but he keeps his focus on Tony’s legs.

“Did you end up figuring your math stuff out?” he asks sometime later when Tony’s legs were less tense and cramped.

“Yeah, eventually. I think this is the first time I’ve ever had a hard time concentrating on math,” he says. Bucky raises an eyebrow in question and Tony continues, “usually when I’m doing math it’s all I can focus on until I solve the problem. It gets to be an issue because that means I’ll stare at it for days at a time and forget to eat and stuff. But this time it was hard to focus past you, past the way your breathing was in sync with mine, the way you shivered when I touched you, the soft noises you made…” Tony trails off, heavy hooded eyes on Bucky, tracking his movements. Bucky flushes, ducking his head and Tony sits up, titling his chin back up, “you were amazing, Bucky. Fucking amazing.”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for cancer but I think that's it.

Wade is curled up on his couch presumably still hiding from Peter and Vanessa and eating Bucky sorbet. “Are you gunna pay for that?” he asks, throwing his keys at Wade’s head. The media circus around Tony has calmed some since Obadiah was picked up and Phil was freakishly sneaky so he managed to make it home finally. Obadiah had tried hard to blame Tony but there was far more evidence that that scum bag had anticipated. Tony was now busy recleaning his company, finding anyone who had anything to do with Obi and getting rid of them. It was clearly stressing him out but Bucky figured that was better than the alternative.

And then there was all the bullshit around Tony’s orientation, god even know how people got ahold of Tony’s _medical records_ let alone why anyone thought it was appropriate to fucking share them with the world. That also seemed to be taking it’s toll on Tony but he said he was fine and Bucky’s been dealing with Steve’s stubborn ass long enough to know the type. If he didn’t want to say anything he wasn’t going to so Bucky didn’t push.

“You’re going to make a cancer patient pay for sorbet? The fuck kind of Disney Villain are you?” Wade asks, drawing Bucky’s attention back to him.

“Weasel put you on the deadpool, you can’t possibly think I’m more insensitive than that,” Bucky points out. Weasel was _such_ an asshole for that but he got the fucked up kind of Weasel humor the action had. Wade would have done the same if the situations were reversed because they had a special brand of offensive humor.

“I’m gunna die anyways, Weasel might as well make a buck off it, I get it. But making a cancer patient pay for comfort food? You’re a stone cold bitch,” Wade says, waving a spoon full of sorbet around.

“Fuck off Wade, I know you’ve jerked off in my bed at least once, and god knows what you’ve done with my shower. You owe me.” He’s heard the weird horror adventures Weasel and Wade have had with their dicks, he was almost frightened of what he was going to find further into the apartment.

“I’ve done nothing you can prove,” Wade quips, sticking his sorbet into his mouth in some sort of attempt to look innocent and innocuous. Yeah, no one who knew even a little about Wade would be mistaking him for innocent any time soon, least of all Bucky.

“Of course you haven’t. But you can pick me up some sorbet when you inevitably go to the store to buy yourself some ridiculous food concoction,” he says.

“I’m going to remember this in the afterlife,” Wade warns. Bucky rolls his eyes and shakes his head because there was nothing ghost Wade could do that would freak him out more than flesh and blood Wade.

*

Clint was lazy as hell and he was the first to admit it. Hell, it was probably the only think he’d ever be first in, even. That made being a Dom a bit difficult because he had to _do_ things and he’d rather Netflix and chill but with actual chilling, fuck the sex bit. That was alright but it required far ore effort than he was willing to give near anything except for college minus that time he gave college the old college try. He also gave college the old college fail because the only thing he was any good at was archery and how the fuck was he supposed to make money off that? He knew he shouldn’t have run off with the damn circus as a kid but at the time it looked better than his shitty foster home.

So now he was stuck in a dead end job cleaning shit of all things. He _sucked_ at cleaning; Phil always made faces and hovered around until he left that spot to properly clean it when he was done. He couldn’t believe someone _paid_ him to clean things and he was pretty sure Phil couldn’t either. It didn’t really require much work if he handed Luis the broom though, all he had to do was get him started on a story and off he went, doing most of Clint’s work for him and if Scott was around he got them to argue. And that was how he evaded actually working for a living though Phil had once pointed out he wasn’t very lazy at all given the extreme lengths he went to in order to avoid doing things. Phil maybe had a point when he told Clint that if he channeled that energy into actually being a productive human he would be successful but nah. Clint enjoyed being so lazy that he bought a cat so he could run a laser pointer up a wall and have the cat turn off the lights for him. Once he got Phil to hand him head phones that were only just out of his reach and to this day that was his greatest accomplishment.

That didn’t mean he was fucking obtuse though, regardless of what Phil might think. He wasn’t a moron, he knew Phil was off doing something because there were dishes in the sink and he hadn’t cleaned Clint’s toothpaste off the side of the sink. Phil didn’t like messes and the small messes piling up around the house indicated that Phil clearly wasn’t home during the day though he was mostly there at night. The calls explaining his absences didn’t make much sense either considering Phil didn’t much like sleeping in unfamiliar places, and when the hell did he ever stay the night at Bucky’s anyways? He swore Phil thought he was an idiot or something. He’d be offended but he kind of was an idiot so that was fair, actually.

The beauty of Phil, though, was that he was basically effortless. Phil was a simple guy and his freakish level of people pleasing made him _so easy_ to deal with because he made most of their dynamic himself. Clint has never been able to maintain a relationship because he honestly found them exhausting, except not Domming someone once and awhile made him cranky as hell so he had to have one night stands or something to maintain good mental health. So when Phil came along he was skeptical about this whole thing working out because he was some next level lazy and Phil had a tendency to micromanage his own micromanaging. By all means this should have failed before it even started but it didn’t, instead Phil did all the work and Clint was happy to let him do everything. That was awesome. All he had to do was make sure Phil felt appreciated and loved considering he was next to vanilla and he wasn’t overly adventurous. That was fucking fine by Clint, the less work the better. Plus Phil’s praise kink was an easy thing to satisfy considering he was probably the greatest thing to have ever happened to Clint.

Phil’s praise kink was also the key to obedience too and honestly Clint hit sub _gold_ with Phil. Most subs required a lot of love and care and he guessed Phil was no different, but he didn’t feel like work and that’s what Clint was going for. Plus punishments were easy as hell; all he had to do was ignore Phil. He was a people pleaser to the extreme if he actually liked them and when Clint didn’t give Phil attention he spent more and more time vying for his attention until he got it. Honestly ignoring him worked out great because Phil baked him things and catered to him all day and all he had to do was keep his mouth shut. In the meantime Phil basically flogged himself mentally for doing something wrong until he went batty enough to talk to Clint about it and _then_ he had to do some work. But Phil was a quick learner and he got concepts fast so even that was easy. And all he had to do to smooth things over was pet Phil and tell him his cake was awesome. _Easy_.

So when Phil comes home after an inexplicable three-day absence in which Clint ate as much Taco Bell as he could without Phil chastising him for it he just ignores him. Phil says hi and Clint barely acknowledges him, pretending to be engrossed in some Netflix show while Phil fidgets for a moment. He long ago mastered the art of paying attention while not looking like he was paying attention at all so he watches as Phil goes though his usual coming home routine, sparing Clint a glance before he retreats to the shower. He returns some twenty minutes later, asking Clint how his day was and he shrugs. Phil stops and looks at Clint for a moment before moving to the kitchen. Clint silently sends a prayer to whatever deity sent Phil the freakishly good cook to him. He wasn’t much of a believer but Phil made fucking kale taste good, he must have been created by something divine, there was no other explanation.

Phil busies himself in the kitchen and Clint tries to figure out what the fuck he was even watching. From the five minutes he has paid attention to there was a lot of murder for no real reason at all. Someone else dies and now Clint was invested in finding out why everyone was being killed off. Twenty minutes later and the delicious smell of whatever Phil was cooking later he still hadn’t figured out why everyone was being brutally murdered but he did figure out that he hated the cop with a passion. Frankly he wanted to know why no one was killing that guy off, he was a total asshole and honestly the show would be better without him there. He actually doesn’t notice when Phil walks over with food until he clears his throat and then Clint realizes he’s being presented with an actual meal. Sometimes he forgot how much he loved Phil until he got handed food and then he realized how bad life was with microwave burritos.

He takes the food without comment and sticks a bite in his mouth. Of course it was probably one of the most delicious things he’s ever eaten but he keeps that to himself so Phil can stew in his being a secretive ass for while. Once he figures Phil is done driving himself up the wall he’ll throw him a bone and get to the bottom of whatever the hell has been going on with Phil lately. Until then he would enjoy his excellent food and continue trying to figure out the plot of this weird ass murder show. Phil stands there for a full three minutes waiting for Clint to say something to him and honestly he almost felt bad enough to give in to Phil’s dejected stare but he doesn’t. Eventually Phil wanders away to go do Phil things and Clint finally catches on to the plot of the damn show. Some serial killer was obsessed with some bland white girl, who had no distinguishable features that made her worthy of so much attention, but her friends were excellent and Clint liked them so he figured he’d keep watching.

He hears Phil cleaning things in the kitchen, probably the dishes from the food and whatever Clint might have left in there. He ended up doing his own dishes yesterday and it was a sad moment for him, and probably an even more sad moment for Phil when he finds them because he’ll probably rewash them. He had a weird thing about the dishes. The show goes on to reveal that the main character was even more bland and white than he initially thought but her friends do get more interesting so the kind of make up for the blandness of the main character. And her idiot boyfriend dies so he was cool with that.

Eventually Phil comes back and he stands there for a few moments hopefully. Clint nearly gives in then too because it was _sad_ watching Phil standing there waiting for attention and it was mean to ignore him. But he needed to figure out what the hell was going on with Phil and he wasn’t going to get a real answer unless he made Phil feel like a real ass and _then_ he’d spill his guts and they could deal with the damn problem. He hadn’t even known there _was_ a problem but apparently Phil was insistent on keeping secrets and Clint wasn’t about to put up with it, Phil wouldn’t put up with his secrets. And the only things he kept secret was how much fast food he scarfed down before Phil could catch him and make him eat broccoli. So maybe ignoring Phil wasn’t any more pleasant for him than it was for Phil, but he intended on letting Phil know that whatever the hell he thought he was doing was not okay and then fixing it.

It takes a few minutes for Phil to do something but this time he has to hit Clint right in the god damn feelings by kneeling beside him, pressing his cheek to Clint’s knee. It takes a hell of a lot of self-control not to pet the poor man’s head and tell him he was good but he does it, folding his arms across his chest so he wasn’t tempted to do it anyways. He swears to _god_ Phil was playing dirty when he wraps his hand around Clint’s ankle, something that he liked for some inexplicable reason. It made him feel grounded and Phil felt the same way, if for totally different reasons. His fingers itch to brush over Phil’s soft, fine hair and he realizes Phil has been gone just long enough to throw him out of whack. No wonder he had been feeling so unforgiving earlier, but he sticks to the plan anyways. He knew damn well how Phil worked and he was going to make sure he knew how much of an ass he was acting like lately.

He lets Phil stew for a few moments before pausing the show, feeling the change in Phil’s body language as he anticipated some sort of response out of Clint. Just because Clint is feeling particularly vengeful he sits there in dead silence until Phil relaxes again, apparently catching on to his punishment. He takes some time to think about how the hell he was going to do this and decides he is going to wing it. Why he even tried these things he had no idea, Phil was the brains of this operation.

“Where have you been for the last three days? And don’t give me some bullshit about being with Bucky,” he says. That wasn’t even a good lie and he was kind of man Phil thought he was dumb enough to fall for that. He might not be the sharpest knife in the door but damn; he was smarter than Scott Lang. Luis got all the crap about being the dumb one but it was Scott that was the dumb one, Luis was weirdly sophisticated, he just liked baggy clothes and had an accent. The guy went to _wine tastings_ regularly and he actually had good taste. That seemed like a thing Phil would do and Clint sort of used him as a baseline for dapper.

Phil remains silent for a few moments and Clint finally sighs, “this isn’t looking promising,” he says with just a bit more attitude than intended. But there was no need for Phil to be keeping secrets unless he was either doing something he knew he shouldn’t be or he _thought_ he was doing something he shouldn’t. Sometimes he confused the two because Phil was weird and gave himself senseless restrictions sometimes.

“Technically I was with Bucky,” Phil says quickly, finally breaking. Clint thanks a god he doesn’t even believe in because if this was one of those times where he was going to have to wait Phil out for days he was pretty sure he’d die. It turned out Phil could be very stubborn but thankfully that’s only happened twice over the last three years. Most of the time he was at Clint’s feet within two hours. “But it was more on business terms than friendly ones,” he says vaguely. Clint resists the urge to roll his eyes at Phil’s skimping out on information.

“And that means what, exactly?” he asks. He has an idea but he wants Phil to confirm it for him.

He gets the satisfaction of watching Phil squirm, his hand growing tighter around Clint’s ankle. “Nothing all that important,” he says, “just some stuff with Tony.”

Stuff with Tony? The only thing he had heard about Stark in the last few days was… “are you telling me without actually telling me that you spent the last three days _finding and arresting a fucking international terrorist who has committed treason_? And you classify this as _nothing important_?” he all but yells. He half wants to leave Phil in a corner for a solid three days with nothing but his own brain to keep him company but at this point it was a bit fucking late.

Phil reacts quickly and swiftly, pulling away from Clint so they were no longer in contact, a self imposed punishment because Phil was easy and mostly Domed himself. “Technically yes. I did all the behind the scenes stuff though, it was mostly paperwork.”

As if that made this any better. “And were you in danger?” he asks full well knowing the answer was yes, _obviously_ that was a yes.

“Sure, but not really that much-”

“Shut up Phil,” Clint says in an unforgiving tone. Phil shrinks in on himself a little and Clint can’t help but feel satisfied with that, it served him right for lying like that. “You don’t get to do that, keep secrets that could very well get you killed. When the hell did you even get involved with all of this? How long, exactly, have you been investigating a god damn terrorist?” he asks. So he knew about Phil’s previous job as spy but come on, even spies had to think terrorists were a big deal, right? If they didn’t Phil was a level of badass that Clint didn’t even know was a thing until right now.

“A few weeks,” Phil admits quietly.

“Oh come _on_ Phil, you’ve been running around chasing a terrorist for a few god damn weeks and it never occurred to you to fucking mention it? Because I feel like I have a right to know if you might not come home tomorrow because you got involved in some sketchy shit,” he says harshly. _Jesus_ , who the hell even _did_ that?

“I didn’t think of that,” Phil whispers.

“Well good to know that only one of us cares about whether or not you die tomorrow,” Clint snaps, “are you done with this?” He better be done with this, he wasn’t going to put up with Phil casually lying about where he was all the time only to find out he off and _died_ somewhere doing spy shit or whatever this was.

“I don’t know,” Phil says softly and Clint gets the feeling Phil was answering a question Clint didn’t technically ask. He had meant his current project, whom he assumed was Obadiah Stane, but he was pretty sure Phil meant in general.

“And why didn’t you say anything?” he asks, loosing steam quickly. He just wanted to figure out what was going on, what they were going to do about it was going to have to come later, when he was less worried that Phil could have _died_.

“Because I don’t really know what I’m doing and this was supposed to be a one time thing but I realized how much I missed the job and I don’t know what that means for me because the last time I got involved like this I woke up one day and realized that job was all I had. I didn’t even have a real name at that point, just a few different aliases,” Phil says.

“If you want the job back take it, but don’t you dare lie to me about it. Fuck Phil, what if you _had_ gotten hurt and I didn’t know what was going on? You don’t want the job to take over than I suggest being honest about it,” he says. Well, minus the details, Clint was pretty sure that might be illegal but still. Phil wasn’t an idiot, he knew what Clint meant.

Phil fidgets, “you don’t understand. My whole _life_ centered around the job, my friends were only coworkers, I don’t really have any family, and even the people I dated were involved in the job somehow,” he says, “I don’t want that to happen again.”

“Didn’t you take that job young?” He didn’t really have the specifics but Phil had given him enough information to make a few educated guesses, “it doesn’t really surprise me that you got overinvested, you were good at something and you fit in. It can happen to anyone, especially if you don’t have a support system elsewhere. But you do have a support system elsewhere, god knows I’d never be a spy, I’m so damn lazy I get a cat to turn off my lights, I’m not spy material. And you have a bunch of other friends outside of that now, plus more life experience and a cautionary tale of what happens with you let something take up an unhealthy portion of your life. You know your limits better now and frankly I don’t give a damn what you do, just don’t ever lie to me like that again,” he says.

“Actually you’re one of the most resourceful people I have ever met and trust me I know some savvy people. Honestly your ability to make things extremely easy is nothing short of astounding, I had no idea being lazy was so difficult. But… I don’t know, I miss the job but not so much that I’m willing to lose everything I have,” Phil says softly.

“Than don’t lose everything you love, you’re overthinking things. So maybe you might have long hours and year you’re going to have to keep details to yourself for security purposes but that doesn’t have to take over your life. You’re smart Phil, you’ll figure out a balance. Now come here so I can like hug you or something because I’m only half convinced that I’m not hallucinating you,” he says. Phil hesitates but when Clint gives his a gentle nudge with his foot he crawls onto the couch and curls up in Clint’s lap. He hugs Phil to his chest tightly, taking in the solid warmth of Phil’s body and assuring himself that Phil was fine, he was holding the proof of that.

*

Bucky looked like a fucking idiot passes out on the couch with what was left of the bag of chips clutched in his arms like they were his life line and Wade can’t help but feel like he’s going to miss that. Not that he thinks he’ll miss anything really; he never was one for the afterlife. God seemed like he was too good to be true and eternal fire and damnation was a bit dramatic so he was pretty sure that was fake. So he died and that was that, no happy eternal life, no flames to burn away his sins, just nothingness for the rest of forever. That sounded fucking bleak and he would rather not think about it.

But no, his stupid fucking body was killing him and he was going to have to face death down sooner rather than later and that pissed him off. He wasn’t even old yet and yeah, maybe he was kind of a shitty person but karma could have at least killed him quickly. He would take a bullet, or hell, even a car accident. But _cancer_? That was slow and horrible and he didn’t want to go through that let alone put someone else through that. It was god damn cruel is what it was. This shit should be saved for child molesters or something, not garden-variety assbags like himself.

He looks down at the card, contemplating his options. So the thing was sketchy as hell considering it was all black with only a white phone number on it. It didn’t even have an area code but honestly, what were his options here? Die or die faster, or maybe this treatment would work. Probably not but hey, what’s the worst that could happen? He dies? Because he was a walking dead man anyways so that wasn’t really scary anymore.

In the end he figures that maybe, _maybe_ it might work and if it did than maybe he wouldn’t have to abandon Peter and Vanessa like this. And if it didn’t, well, they were gunna have to go through it eventually so he wasn’t really doing anything terrible by dying. He doesn’t leave a note behind when he leaves because Bucky was noble and shit and he’d probably give it to Peter and Vanessa. The only reason he hadn’t said anything so far was because he was too caught up in his own shit.


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, warnings for this chapter include some abuse of power as a therapist (mentioned), some allusions to child abuse, BDSM inexperience (though everything was consensual) and [Dom drop](https://brairthornblog.wordpress.com/2009/12/05/dominant-aftercare-taken-from-a-different-blog/). 
> 
> I think that's everything but as always, if I missed something let me know and I'll add it in. Also the Dom drop information is on a black screen with white writing so it will likely hurt the eyes if you look at it too long, or maybe that's just me, but I figured I should mention that too.

“Vanessa says she’s going to beat Wade’s ass when she finds him,” Weasel says, reading off some texts from a group chat he was currently in. Bucky had to wonder if Peter and Vanessa even knew he was there because this was Weasel, breaking into a group chat to lurk sounded like something he would do. “Peter said that that probably won’t made Wade want to stick around but- oh there we go, Vanessa pointed out that Wade loves getting his beat. He’ll stay home. So he just… left?” he asks for the third time.

Weasel was a Grade A bastard and everyone knew it, but in his own weird way he cared about people. Wade was the same way, so he might be a total dick but he’d kill a man for you if you asked him to, and paid him a small fee. He’s considered having Brock killed off but he figured he might feel a little guilty for that, also he wasn’t sure he wanted to confirm Wade killed people for profit even if he’s seen the guy’s Instagram. “Yeah, he left in the dead of the night like some sort of bad television trope,” Bucky tells him, also for the third time. He had no clue where Wade went; he didn’t exactly leave him a freaking scavenger hunt to find him even if Bucky sort of wished he had. That would make this all the easier but sadly Wade, as usual, was being an asshole so finding him wasn’t much possible unless he turned up somewhere with some shame and his panties in hand.

“Great. Now I have to tell Vanessa and Peter I haven’t seen him and they’re going to chew my ass for not throwing a leash on him or something. Jesus, I didn’t think he’d actually take off, it isn’t really like him,” Weasel says, leaning against the dirty counter. Bucky hopes he doesn’t contract an STI or something because that was entirely possible in this establishment.

“He was pretty freaked out, Weasel, he has _six months_ to live. Of course he’d run if he thought he was sparing people from watching that,” Bucky says. It wasn’t what he would do, that sounded terrifying to him, but Wade was also far stronger than he’s ever been so he could probably do all this on his own. He would try some more to talk Wade out of this but he was gone now so that clearly wasn’t an option.

“Yeah, well now we’re all going to have to guess his death date, that’s fucking depressing Bucky. He’s being stupid,” Weasel says with more meaning than Bucky has ever heard him attach to anything really. It shouldn’t surprise him considering Wade is Weasel’s best friend but it does anyways, mostly because Weasel was more known for being an absolute asshole than a caring person. He always wondered how Weasel’s wife took that but he didn’t know much about her despite Weasel talking about her frequently. Probably because he has his fingers in all sorts of illegal businesses and she could easily be used to target Weasel. Wade too, though he didn’t make a good target considering he spent time in the military and he must have had some fucking great training because he’s seen Wade take down an entire bar full of people with nothing but a push pin and a broken bottle. He might actually be able to give Phil a run for his money in the kicking ass department. Weasel himself was much less badass and preferred the running and hiding method of dealing with things. Or the hiding behind Wade method if there was nowhere to hide.

“That’s Wade’s natural state,” he jokes but it falls flat. “Look, I don’t know what to do here, Weasel, he came to me in confidence and I figured he’d stick around long enough that I could have at least pulled a goodbye out of him or something. But he didn’t, instead he ran off to do something dumb because Wade has a bad habit of doing that. He didn’t even tell _me_ he was going to take off,” he says softly. He would have figured since Wade came to him but… Wade probably predicted correctly that Bucky would have tried to talk him out of whatever dumb idea Wade talked himself into.

Weasel heaves out a sigh, “yeah I know. He better fucking send us a post card or something before he croaks or I’m going to be pissed,” Weasel says in an attempt to joke but he sounds genuinely pissed. Personally Bucky could do without the post card because he didn’t really want to know where Wade died, that was kind of morbid.

*

If Tony saw one more fucking headline about his biological orientation he was going to _scream_. He had business investors _pull their investments_ over this bullshit. Apparently lying wasn’t desirable and they didn’t like it when he listed off all the lies they told him over the last several years, making their statements moot. Discrimination was what this was, flat out, and they didn’t much like when he threw that out there too. Pepper was supportive if confused over the whole thing and Natasha told him that she ran checks on him years ago and figured this out. She had been rather confused at first but she grew to understand that clearly he didn’t work like most people did and she also figured out how not to care about that. It wasn’t like she was normal either, so she simply shrugged and moved on.

What was particularly annoying was that this whole orientation thing was actually overshadowing the fact that Obadiah was being charged with treason and terrorism. That made the business investors pulling shit all the more offensive because they essentially told him terrorism was fine, but feel like your biological orientation doesn’t match up with what you feel? Well, that was so fucked up even terrorism didn’t compare to the unnaturalness of _that_. In short he was rather disgusted with the whole thing.

The only bonus to this mess was the mass online response in support for him, and even better, a whole slew of people confessing that they felt the same way. Tony wasn’t much used to support like this in his past presence as a famous person or a business guy and most of that was for good reason. He wasn’t a good person and he shouldn’t have had support, even if he never was really comfortable with his public persona. But with this he had a mass influx of Twitter messages, blog posts, and other various online forums discussing him in a mostly positive way.

They were all especially enthused with this morning’s outburst because of _course_ some idiot had to throw out the ‘special snowflake’ argument. Tony had thrown back his head and laughed and pointed out that he’s a genius, a billionaire, famous, and he’s _always_ been flashy; his orientation not matching up with biology was literally the _least_ interesting thing about him. If people wanted to call him a special snowflake because they were too stupid to understand a new concept and insisted that _he_ was wrong instead of their embarrassingly small interpretation of Dom/sub dynamics so be it, but that wasn’t his problem, it was theirs.

So instead of reading the stupid fucking articles that deemed his orientation more important than _terrorism_ he responded to quite a few Twitter messages from people who thought they were the only people who felt that way. To be honest until that moment he sort of thought he was only person who felt that way too, even if he knew that logically that was impossible. There is no way out of nine billion people currently alive, and all those that have lived before, that he was the only one who felt like this. There was simply no way, but if you’ve never met someone who’s like you how the hell were you to know that people like you existed?

Unfortunately he also discovered a whole new brand of discrimination to go along with this. If someone has felt this way before and told someone about it the subject clearly didn’t have a large platform. Outside of small online communities, or maybe some small groups in larger cities, this was never presented as an issue before. But he’s _Tony Stark_ , his name was in the media all the time with his scientific discoveries, his sex life, whatever stunt he pulled his week, he was all over Forbes all the time, and now this was everywhere too. More than one poor sap on Twitter ended up getting fired because of their confession and he was betting a ton of people quit their jobs working for him too. Whatever then, he figured he’d hire whoever got fired if they were close enough to a store. What a great fuck you to a bunch of assholes.

Rhodey, surprisingly, had taken it well. Not that Tony expected him to be unsupportive, but he did have a bad habit of making jokes that only he found funny. Though it was Tony’s fault too, it wasn’t like he said anything to the contrary and Rhodey wasn’t a mind reader, how the hell was he supposed to know his comments hurt Tony’s feelings? All three of them, even. But he was supportive where it mattered anyways, and at first he thought the documents were fake. It helped that in college they had an arrangement of sorts, neither of them had time for a relationship and neither were really interested in one really. But Rhodey didn’t exactly have the money to see a professional Dom about his sub instincts and Tony needed an outlet, boom, if they used each other problem solved. It was free, they were good friends anyways so the trust was there, and a tentative contract was easy enough.

First hand experience apparently made all the difference given Rhodey easily accepted that biology fucked up this time because Tony wasn’t much of a sub. They tried that too, for funsies, and Rhodey spent more time criticizing him than anything. Frankly Tony did what he did any time he was stuck in the position of sub; he acted like an ass because why the hell should he listen? It didn’t help that he had authority issues he should probably deal with. It had been fun to keep people guessing though, so every once and awhile he’d suffer through a scene playing sub. Riley, because Pepper had _insisted_ he go see the guy again, said that probably had a lot of negative effects on his mental health because of the traumas he suffered at the hands of doctors running a million and one experiments trying to figure out what was ‘wrong’ with him.

Howard hadn’t been impressed when everything came back fine and Tony remained insistent that no, he was _not_ a sub thank you. He hadn’t even connected the two until Riley mentioned it but the tests they often involved stuffing him into submissive positions and measuring brain waves and shit. All they got that was that he was angry and yeah, they didn’t even _need_ a test to figure that out. But as much as he didn’t want to admit it Riley had a point when he connected his childhood trauma to his inability to be in any sort of submissive position now. He linked that back to Tony’s issues with authority but Tony was pretty sure that was actually the daddy issues talking there. It certainly affected the way he viewed medical professionals now anyways, he avoided hospitals like the plague and had zero faith in any sort of psychology or psychiatry. He was particularly resistant to taking drugs for any sort of mental health issue.

Riley didn’t push it at least, unlike the last idiot he had been stuck with. That whole experience was made worse by the fact that Agent had discovered he was being paid off by Obi to fuck with Tony’s head. Tony hadn’t exactly been eager for Pepper to stuff him back into therapy after that but she pointed out that Riley came from a source that technically had nothing to do with his previous ‘doctor’. He had been tempted to point out that his idiot doctor sent him to Sam who sent him to Riley but Sam flat out called his doctor an idiot so clearly he didn’t much agree with his practices. So, against his better judgment he slinked back to make another fucking therapy appointment with Riley. When Riley asked him why he was there given that he seemed to have less than no interest in being there he told him about Pepper.

Imagine his surprise when Riley told him to not bother coming back, that therapy wasn’t for anyone but yourself. He was even more surprised when Riley told him to be selfish is he was going to go the therapy route because the person who needed help was him, not everyone else around him. The point was to change _his_ thinking and to help _him_ specifically, not to appease everyone else around him.

*

Sharon is perched on the couch with her tea looking at him intently, “seriously, what’s wrong with him? Does he like… have a bag of his own hair in a shoe box under the bed or something?” she asks, narrowing her eyes at him.

Bucky frowns, “who the fuck do you know that has a shoe box of their own hair under their bed? And no, Steve doesn’t have a hair shoe box, what the hell? I think his mom kept a clipping of his hair from his first hair cut but I think he threw it out when she died.” That didn’t stop Sharon from peppering him with about a hundred more new questions that were more questionable than the last.

“Come on, there _has_ to be a reason he’s single that isn’t related to you. Has _no one_ tried to hit on him?” she asks.

“God, everyone who is single or in an open relationship or has shady morals has hit on Steve in our general area. The guy is freakishly obtuse, half the time he thinks they’re just being nice unless they all but throw themselves at him. Then he’s mostly just not interested, to be honest I think he might be demisexual but he doesn’t know it yet. He’s never dated, or had an interest in dating, anyone he wasn’t friends with for at least a few months. You’re an anomaly,” he says. By all means Steve’s strange and tentative relationship with Sharon made no sense according to Steve’s usual dating pattern. Not that he’s dated a huge amount of people but he’s dated enough to have an actual pattern.

She sits back in her seat, “to be honest I don’t think he’s all that interested but he’s difficult to read, which is a weird position for me to be in. Usually I can figure people out in ten minutes or less so this is weird for me. In a weird way I think he’s dating me because of that offhand comment you made when we met and that is just not right,” she says. Bucky snorts because that sounded like Steve, realizing he hurt someone’s feelings and then doing what they wanted him to. The problem here was that that was _Sharon_ because of a stupid comment he made and Steve probably wasn’t even aware of it. “I still think something is off but I can’t figure out what, I mean by all means the guy is perfect. Maybe I’m just having a hard time accepting that someone could possibly even _be_ that good.”

“Are trust issues a spy thing or do you and Phil both just happen to have trust issues?” he asks. Of course Phil hid it better than Sharon, who seemed to be far more blunt with what she meant by her words. He suspected that she tempered her words as much as Phil though, even with her bluntness.

“Wait, you bought the spy thing? No one buys the spy thing; everyone thinks that’s a joke which… you actually know a spy? What’s his name? His _real_ name? Is he even really a he?” she asks, eyes narrowing at him.

“Uhh,” Bucky says for lack of a better response, “pretty sure Phil’s actually a guy but now that I think about it I have no clue what his last name is. He’s never mentioned it, but I mean he calls to Phil so I’m guessing that’s his name. So you make a habit of telling people you’re a spy?” he asks. That was a little weird considering she was _actually_ a spy judging from her reaction to his comment.

“Oh please, he probably calls to a half a dozen different names, that doesn’t matter. And no, I usually give people a whole laundry list of occupations but occasionally it’s fun to tell people you’re a spy and have a good laugh about the improbability of that. The joke’s on them because I actually _am_ a spy and now I’m going to have to kill you because you know,” Sharon says, dead serious.

Bucky eyes her suspiciously, “you’re not serious about that, right? Because I feel like I shouldn’t have to die because I happen to know another spy. Ex spy. Maybe current spy, he’s in an identity crisis right now so talk to me in a month when he figures it out,” he says. To his knowledge Phil was still skirting around Clint, which was going to end terribly because Clint was more perceptive than Phil liked to give him credit for. Plus it was a dick move to not tell Clint about his picking up his old job anyways, however temporary that might have been.

“I probably don’t have the clearance level to do it myself,” Sharon laments and Bucky shifts away from her a bit. “Oh jeeze, I can’t just _kill_ people, Bucky, that’s still illegal even for spies. I can’t believe that spy joke backfired on me; I thought you were joking when you said you knew a spy. Who even knows spies? Well, who knows they know a spy,” she corrects.

“We didn’t at first but I was dating this guy for awhile, and he wasn’t all that great and Phil found out and lost his shit. He beat the hell out of him with a sack of _flour_ ; do they teach you that in spy school? Do they _have_ a spy school?” he asks, frowning. How the hell did someone even go about becoming a spy? And how the hell did he know so many spies? He felt like knowing two spies was excessive but then he recently started dating a billionaire and previously dated the scum of the earth. He had a knack for finding the weird and unusual ones.

“Spy school is a thing, that’s all I can say about it. And no, they don’t teach us how to beat people up with sacks of flour but they do teach us to use our environment to our advantage so apparently that was a sack of flour. I kind of want to know this guy, he sounds like fun to hang out with,” she says, grinning. Yeah, Phil would probably like Sharon too. They both did that passive aggressive smile thing when they didn’t like what someone was saying. He wondered if that was a spy thing too, or maybe Phil and Sharon happened to be a lot alike and both were spies. Did spy school have a certain personality type that they went for? Probably.

“You’d get along with him, I think,” Bucky tells her. They could bond over that time Phil beat Brock’s ass with a sack of flour. That was probably the coolest thing Bucky has ever seen, that and Tony’s _holograms_ , because those were _legit_ apparently.

“Mmm, probably, we can bond over spy things. I’m guessing the guy that was here earlier in the week wasn’t your Phil? And he wasn’t your boyfriend either, which makes his presence here without you for three days a little weird, especially when he took off in the middle of the night,” Sharon says, narrowing her eyes suspiciously. Right, she was a spy, of course she would notice things.

“Did you happen to see where he went?” he asks somewhat hopefully.

“‘Fraid not, should I have noticed?” she asks, head tilted to the side.

“No. That was Wade, a friend of mine, he just got diagnosed with terminal cancer and he’s pulling a cat and running away to die somewhere. None of us know where he went, which was probably the point, but we’re worried. And how do you know I’m dating someone?” he asks, clueing in to all of what she said a bit too late.

“Well I’m not an idiot, you don’t need to be a spy to know what those dopey ass faces you make at your phone mean. Besides, you were gone for three days and you weren’t at your closest friend’s house. I gather that you’re on bad terms at the moment but Steve told me you were a creature of habit so I figured a new relationship would explain you breaking habit. You know, the honeymoon phase and all that,” she says, waving her hand around dismissively. “So, dating anyone I know?” she asks, obviously as a joke but she actually probably did know Tony. Well, know of him.

“I don’t make dopey faces at my phone,” he mumbles, “and to be fair my entire life has been pretty uprooted for the last three months so habit had been lost to the wind. And no, probably no one you know,” he lies. She’d have to live under a rock to not know who Tony was but he was unsure of who, if anyone, he was allowed to tell at this point. Security and media and such were kind of issues and he didn’t count Phil because now he knew that Phil knew the guy the whole time and didn’t even say anything. And he looked _so surprised_ when Bucky brought him up too, and not in a ‘oh you met a celebrity’ kind of way either. Asshole.

Sharon gives him a ‘yeah right’ look, “honey, I’d have to live in a cave to not know who Tony Stark is. Nice try though,” she chirps, looking pleased with herself.

“I… what… how?” he stutters out, shocked that she knew.

She uncurls her legs from under herself and sets her tea aside, walking over to his door and pulling his keys out of the dish on the small table sitting there. “This,” she says, holding up a small trinket Tony had attached to his keys before he left, “is meant to cancel out any sort of bugs planted in the immediate vicinity. But more than that this is a very, _very_ specific and highly efficient model that isn’t available to the public. Actually, it isn’t available to most anyone so unless you know Stark personally there’s no way you would have one. Which begs the question of how you know him, and why the hell you would need something to cancel out bugs in your house. But with that whole Obadiah business that makes sense, it’s entirely possible that he knew about your relationship even if no one told him about you, hence the bug detector. Plus his sex life has been surprisingly lacking recently, about as long as you’ve been dating your new guy according to Steve so the timeline matches. Also you left your contract sitting on the counter and no one can miss that signature, it’s very distinctive.”

“All that buildup that was essentially shit because you saw the signature? Really?” he asks.

“What? Can’t a girl enjoy some dramatics once and awhile? Keeps you sharp,” she says in a pleased tone. No, she could not, but she only laughs when Bucky tells her that.

*

Tony pets Bucky’s hair slowly and rhythmically, grounded by the action despite the hectic nature of his life as of late. He missed this, having someone around regularly. He hasn’t had an arrangement like this since Rhodey and that was almost more of a business arrangement to benefit them both, not an actual intimate relationship. Well, not that part of their relationship anyways. In the end it happened to be convenient anyways because there was a whole bunch of shit Tony hadn’t even considered and Rhodey required a ridiculous amount of aftercare, which had always been Tony’s favorite part anyways. It was more intimate, and softer, than the rest. Until then it hadn’t even occurred to him that sensual BDSM was a thing, thanks Howard, but Rhodey had far more experience and no problem directing. Tony was a quick learner and he quickly gathered what he liked best, namely stuff that didn’t hurt much if at all. He had no desire to hurt someone, even if they enjoyed it he didn’t, it reminded him of Howard far too much and it left him feeling sick for days.

“You okay?” Bucky asks, shifting his position to look at Tony. He was currently curled up on his chest, sitting between Tony’s legs. Rhodey used to fall asleep like that all the time and Tony would have to do homework on his head. He was _so pissed_ when he found out by waking up unexpectedly one day to find a notebook on his head. Tony had laughed for like two hours at Rhodey’s indignation and Rhodey refused to let Dom him for like a week, but he gave in when he started getting squirrely.

“I’m fine,” Tony says, offering Bucky a reassuring smile.

“You sure? You were getting kind of tense,” Bucky says. Was he?

“Oh, well I’m alright. Just thinking of college actually,” he says honestly. What a weird time in his life. Everyone else had been so much older, so much more experienced and they expected him to be too, but he was just a kid and he never did get a chance to be one. Rhodey was the only one who ever seemed to remember that he had _so much_ life experience to catch up on and he was the only one with enough patience to allow him to grow. Everyone else rolled their eyes and expected him to get with the program even if it made no sense to expect a fifteen year old to act like someone in their mid-twenties. But by his mid-twenties he had turned Howard’s company into a multi-billion dollar venture, revolutionized the industry every other week since he was twenty, and had more Nobel Prizes than he even knew what to do with. He had more accomplishments than most people would get in a lifetime by the time he was twenty five and it fooled people into thinking that was life experience. It wasn’t and it showed in his behavior.

Bucky snorts, “good old college. I remember those days, all six of them,” he says, snickering.

“Really?” Tony asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Yeah, I got there and pretty much decided fuck that and dropped out. My mom was so pissed but hey, the parties were _great_.” Bucky shakes his head, smiling, “I thought I knew everything then, now I regret dropping out because I literally amounted to nothing. I mean I probably would have ended up in the same place, but I’d be a bum with a degree. That’s like, slightly better.”

“Depends on who you ask. I was such a disappointment to my father and I have seven PhDs, four Masters degrees, and two Bachelors degrees. I also made his company more successful than he ever could, shut down the most profitable section and bounced back in a way that’s literally never been seen before, and I did all that before I was thirty. I mean he wasn’t around to see me wipe the floor with his legacy but still. I have two PhDs, a Bachelors, and a Masters degree by the time he died and he was still mad I didn’t do more. He wasn’t even impressed with JARVIS. JARVIS is _still_ the only semi autonomous AI system in existence and no one has any idea how I did it. Shit, half the things I did before I was twenty were impossible let alone after but Howard would still think I could have done more,” he says bitterly.

Nothing he did was ever good enough; Dummy could make toast for fucks sakes. Everyone else’s robots could barely walk and Dummy could make _toast_. He built that bot when he was thirteen because he thought it would be cool, he didn’t even _try_ and it was still better than everyone else’s twenty years later. “Plus you’re cute, you can get by on your looks,” Tony says, grinning in an attempt to ignore all that other stuff. From the look on Bucky’s face he didn’t do a good job of it.

“If I may, sir, Howard Stark was an embarrassment and a terrible father and you are far better,” JARVIS tells him, interrupting the conversation.

“See? He’s _loyal_ , how many loyal robots that insult shitty parents do you know?” he asks.

“I actually don’t know any and to be honest I could have done without JARVIS because he’s creepy,” Bucky says.

“You offend me,” JARVIS tells him.

“That doesn’t make you less creepy, Jesus Christ. Anyways, creepy robots and shitty fathers are depressing. And Howard sounds like a grade A bastard, what the fuck was even _wrong_ with him? Didn’t he only have one PhD? Maybe he was just jealous that you were better than him. But whatever, that’s sad and little angering so what were you remembering about college?” Bucky asks, walking into more depressing shit without even knowing about it so Tony laughs.

“Nothing that was less depressing, honestly. It was a weird time in my life, by the time I got my first PhD most people would have been almost done high school. It didn’t exactly make experimenting with things easy but Rhodey had a pretty jam packed schedule, so he used to let me Dom him because neither one of us had another outlet. Anyways, I very quickly discovered I hated pretty much anything related to inflicting a considerable amount of pain, which fucking sucked because that’s pretty much all Rhodey’s into. But the aftercare, which he needed a lot of, I loved that. Soothing him and petting him and whatever, _that_ was nice. I mean I still felt sick for days, and guilty, and I lost more sleep than usual, but I learned a thing or two so that’s nice,” he says. It was knowledge that was nice to acquire, but he never really did have that kind of connection again. Establishing that kind of intimacy with a one night stand was difficult and until very recently he wasn’t even interested. Too much trouble, too many ways it could al go wrong.

God knows he didn’t want to drop some poor sub on their ass after establishing the kind of relationship he wanted, it required an extreme amount of mental involvement and a breakup would be disastrous for everyone. How he ended up in this arrangement with Bucky was… well more of an accident, he wasn’t looking for a relationship he just fell into it. With Bucky it was easy though, natural. Other people weren’t quite that simple.

Bucky frowns at him though, “you probably shouldn’t have done that, Dom drop sucks and pushing yourself doesn’t much make it any better. Why didn’t you safeword out? Or Rhodey, he would have noticed,” Bucky says, but he doesn’t sound judgmental about it like most people would. More like he was concerned and Tony appreciated that, people were so judge-y sometimes and he really could do without.

“One, what the fuck is a Dom drop? And two, we were both young and inexperienced, by the time we even realized something was wrong it was way too late and several years after the arrangement ended. Neither of us, but especially me, had been with enough people to notice that the dynamic was way off and neither of us made much of an effort to do much but talk basics. That was stupid of us both but you can’t really expect people to get it perfect on the first try. Unless they’re you, you’re like a fucking unicorn you’re so perfect, if I didn’t know any better I would have thought I _made_ you specifically to match my tastes.” He couldn’t believe that he found this guy in a _support group_ of all things. Who would have thought therapy had a use after all? It wasn’t the intended one by any means but hey, he’s always been a little weird like that.

“Inexperience sucks because people yell at you for not getting things right the first time. I got that a _lot_ when I was young and I have no clue how that was supposed to help. A simple explanation would do, thanks. And Dom drop is sort of like sub drop in that it usually happens after pretty intense scenes, or if they aren’t into it, or if it just drains them a lot. Apparently it makes you really tired and shaky, or guilty depending on the scene or the pain levels involved, and emotionally exhausted. It can last for a few hours or a few days and whatever after care works for you is what you need but that’s different for everyone so. There isn’t really much talk about it but it’s a thing,” he says. Yeah, so Tony knew because Bucky just listed off his symptoms perfectly. He missed the inability to focus and the lack of sleep, but everyone was different, however Bucky came across that information he might not have found that. Or maybe it was something that was specific to him, that was also possible.

“Oh. Well that would have been useful information years ago when that happened regularly. It doesn’t really happen now but I’ve done a lot of learning since then so I don’t usually find myself in a situation that leaves me feeling like shit later,” he says. He was Googling Dom drop later though, for research purposes. “See? Clearly you were made for me,” he says.

Bucky smiles slowly but the color on his cheeks indicate how much the statement meant to him, “just reiterating information,” he mumbles.

“Important information that I didn’t know about that could be relevant later. Don’t sell yourself short, you’re a lot more impressive than you think you are. I mean I didn’t expect you to be so… easy, honestly. Considering how we met I figured you would have had a lot more trust issues with me- not that I’m complaining or anything. Actually, it’s flattering that we work so well together.” Trust like that in what he would consider a short time was impressive, and given recent events and Bucky’s lack of running for the fucking hills like he maybe should that trust translated to some level of loyalty too. That was almost more flattering considering he now had a very real and very frightening idea of how dangerous it could be to date him. But Bucky hadn’t even flinched, he had been understandably stressed sure, but he didn’t even look like he had even _considered_ leaving. Most people would have run screaming for the hills, Tony included.

“And if I’m not always so easy?” Bucky asks softly, worried.

“So you’ll have a bad day, even unicorns have bad days Bucky. I know at some point something’s got to give because things can’t run smoothly all the time, that’s just how things work. Just because I expected to deal with some of those issues sooner rather than later doesn’t mean that I think it’ll never happen. When you have a bad day we’ll deal with it, no big deal,” he says. It was something everyone should be prepared to deal with, Doms and subs couldn’t be perfect one hundred percent of the time, that was impossible. Sooner or later one of them would do something to irk the other or drop or whatever and they would deal with it then.

“Oh,” Bucky says softly, “well usually I’m pretty difficult so fair warning, apparently you’re a unicorn too.” Tony grins, laughing softly at that and hugging Bucky a bit tighter before going back to petting his hair.


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, the last few chapters have been pretty plot driven so here's mostly fluff and some Steve kissing ass. 
> 
> As for warnings, there's some mentions of an abusive relationship but nothing too graphic. If there's anything else let me know!

Bucky doesn’t expect the knock on the door and he’s tempted to ignore it but it could be Sharon and sometimes she made him food. He wasn’t a fool, free food is the best kind of food, so he goes to the door and pulls it open. The last thing he expects to find is a harassed looking Steve, “uh, hello?” he asks more than says.

“Oh thank god. I fucked up; I know I fucked up and not just with you. Please let me in?” he asks. He looks about ready to panic so as tempted as Bucky was to turn him away this was still Steve, his best friend, his closest friend, and he didn’t look so good.

So he lets Steve in, “I better get an apology out of this,” he says, stepping aside so Steve could stop standing in the hallway like an idiot.

“I am so sorry, seriously. I was being a selfish asshole and I was pretending it was to help you and it wasn’t, I just wanted to help myself and I betrayed your trust to do it,” Steve says. It sounds rehearsed, but that’s probably because Steve has been stewing in his own shit for the better part of the last four months. They’ve hardly spoken and if Bucky was honest he has been far too busy to notice the absence between Wade’s shit, Tony’s shit, his job, and Phil’s shit too. Since when did he start playing therapist? He should charge for his services. But with Steve standing in front of him he realized how much he _had_ missed him, even if he didn’t notice it until now.

That didn’t mean he was all set to forgive Steve, “yeah, you did and I’m still not happy about it.”

Steve looks at the ground, “yeah… not my proudest moment,” he says quietly. He felt terrible, Bucky could tell, but he mostly felt that way because he got caught and that didn’t much sit comfortably with him. Or he wasn’t giving Steve enough credit; he did have a bad habit of ignoring the hell out of things when he didn’t like them. It was more than possible that he just ignored his own guilt until he couldn’t anymore; Bucky had a bad habit of just avoiding uncomfortable things until he couldn’t too.

“It shouldn’t be,” Bucky says, “but you came here for a reason, what’s up?” he asks in a softer tone, inviting Steve to talk about whatever it was he came here for.

Instead of giving an answer right away Steve pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a prolonged groan. “Oh god. Remember Sharon?” he asks, clearly unaware that they regularly got together.

“‘Course I do. She’s way too good at Mario Cart, she needs to be eradicated,” Bucky says, ever the sore loser.

That earns him a snort from Steve, and a small smile, but it doesn’t last long. “Right, so you remember her aunt Peggy, right?” he asks and Bucky nods, wondering where the hell this was going. “Well, I figured I’ve been spending a fair amount of time with Sharon, we like each other, so she invited me to lunch with her aunt Peggy. It’s _Peggy_ , Buck. _My_ Peggy.”

Bucky frowns, “Peggy… _Carter_?” he asks in an attempt to clear the confusion, “how is that possible?” If Peggy was Sharon’s aunt shouldn’t she be way older, or Sharon should be way younger…

“They have a weird family, I don’t fucking know, I wasn’t sticking around to figure out that out. I basically _kissed my niece_ , Bucky, I need to be put in prison!” Steve throws his hands up in the air, looking horrified with this whole thing.

“So… you discovered that the Peggy you both love is the _same_ Peggy and did… what? Suffered through a very awkward lunch?” he asks, deciding just how hard he should laugh at Steve for this.

“ _Hell_ no, I ran like hell and thought to myself, shit, where the hell do I go? Phil would kinkshame the _shit_ out of me for this, Clint would laugh his ass off, and I am _not_ letting this story reach any other friend I have. Could you imagine what Dum Dum would do with this information? You were all I had left and in that moment I realized how badly I fucked this all up. You’re my best friend, you never judge me, even when you should, and you’re so supportive and caring and I went screwed all that up because I was being a selfish asshole but… I couldn’t just keep this to myself. So I came here to apologize and tell you about this horrible thing that just happened,” Steve says, finishing that rant with a look on his fact that suggested that he’s seen some shit.

Bucky, because he was an asshole of epic proportions, bursts out laughing. At first Steve looks surprised, and then offended, “you ran off from Sharon,” he says between fits of giggles, “but the place you ran to is across the hall from hers!” Steve lifts his hands to his hair and runs them halfway through, gripping the strands in the top of his head and looking off into the distance with a look of true horror on his face.

“I did not think this through,” he whispers. Bucky continues laughing harder than strictly necessary because Steve deserved it and also his misfortune was funny.

“You have a problem with that lately,” Bucky says when he finally gets himself sort of under control.

“Please tell me you have a bathroom window I could crawl out of,” Steve asks, looking at the ground in shame. Bucky examines Steve’s wide shoulders, objectively attractive, but not really when he considered the whole. Plus they definitely would not fit out his bathroom window and he tells Steve so. “I wish I was skinny again,” he mumbles.

“Don’t let fifteen year old you hear that, you’d kick your own ass for saying that. You hated being skinny,” Bucky points out. He never did see why Steve had a problem with it, the health issues sure, they were horrible, but his physical size? There was no problem with that and he _really_ didn’t get all those assholes who questioned his ability to be a Dom. How the hell that correlated with size he had no clue, plus any idiot with a half a brain cell could tell by _looking_ at Steve that he was Dom material. Even when he was skinny. _Especially_ when he was skinny, he used to wear the orientation like a shield then, always jealous of Bucky’s ‘easy’ confidence and ability to charm people. More like faking the hell out of everything well enough that he even managed to fool himself for awhile.

“I hated not getting as much attention as you and I never did believe you when you said it wasn’t all it was cracked up to be. Sometimes a guy just jog without being hit on every three feet, you know? Now I never want to be hit on again, being skinny again would do that,” Steve says.

“Would not, people weren’t interested in you because you had zero confidence, not because you were skinny. People were plenty interested when you actually acted sure of yourself, look at all those people who used to hit on you after protests. Apparently you didn’t notice that, but you never notice when people hit on you, as if you’re seriously complaining about this right now. That one guy had to all but shove his hand down your pants to get the damn point across,” Bucky points out. Back before Clint came along he and Phil used to make bets on how many people could blatantly hit on Steve before he noticed. The answer was usually in the double digits and Phil almost always won, probably because he used to be a goddamn spy so he like… knew things.

“I do so notice when people hit on me!” Steve protests.

“Do not, remember that one time Gabe actually had to out and out _tell_ you that you were being hit on? And Morita has done it too, and Dernier, you can’t deny it. Usually they give up in you and move on to me, at least before the arm thing…” he says, trailing off. After… well after people didn’t have much of an interest in someone that flinched when they were touched.

“And then Brock,” Steve murmurs.

“Yeah, thanks for reminding me of that, buddy. But still, it’s true, and then Brock. Didn’t I’d recover from that,” he says. He still wasn’t sure about that, honestly. It wasn’t that he thought he’d never be able to move on from it, he did that a long time ago, but to actually recover from it? That was debatable given that he felt the effects of that fucking relationship _still_ and it was years later.

“You seem to be doing fine now, Sharon mentioned some fancy boyfriend but I think she might have been talking about Phil.” Subtle, Bucky thinks, and he’d at least give Steve credit for managing to snake that into a conversation so smoothly.

“Just because I’m currently dating someone doesn’t mean I’m magically healed from all the problems Brock created for me. I still feel them all the time, more than I’d like really, and no relationship is going to change that for me,” he says bluntly. He wished his life were more like some stupid romance movie in which some new Dom taught him how to trust again but that wasn’t exactly the problem. He knew all to well how to trust, he had a problem with trusting the wrong damn people. Brock, for one, and Steve to a far lesser extent given that he at least realized he was a problem and Bucky knew he’d fix it.

And Tony… he was a whole new situation all together. It was weird because the thing that Bucky was the most self-conscious about, his biological orientation, was something Tony openly rejected in his own life because he had the same problem. And trusting the wrong people, his business partner ended up being a terrorist that hired a therapist specifically to fuck with Tony’s head. No one else in Bucky’s life has ever had issues like his own, and a lot of people questioned why he ever put up with Brock in particular, let alone all the rest. But Tony didn’t really do that, even if he didn’t know much, but what he did know earned Bucky a sympathetic look. Like he knew what it felt like to be in that kind of relationship, or that he knew how to sympathize. It was nice to have someone around that actually struggled with stuff because no one else in his life seemed to, and for a long time he thought he was fucked up somehow because of it. But his relationship with Tony did little to heal the wounds; he only reminded Bucky that he wasn’t the only one who had them.

Steve regards him for a moment but ultimately he looks away, unsure of what to say to someone who has been through so much more than he even knew.

*

“I can’t believe these people think that I think that I’m a special snowflake because of this whole orientation thing,” Tony says, snickering. “Mostly because I thought I was a special snowflake long before this shit. Seriously, I’m _great_ ,” he says with more confidence than he probably feels.

“‘Course you are, baby, now can we have pizza? I’m starving,” Bucky says, grinning.

“I second the pizza!” Rhodey yells from the kitchen.

“It better have pineapple!” Natasha yells shortly there after. That quickly evolves into a question of whether or not liking pineapple on pizza means you’re a bad person or not, which Bucky didn’t understand because pineapple on pizza is great.

“I’m not putting pineapple on pizza, I’m not a fucking monster. Pepperoni ok?” Tony asks, offending Bucky’s delicate sensibilities. “You like pineapple on pizza, don’t you? well you know what, I’m just telling the truth, your mother dropped you on your head as a child,” he says in a matter-of-fact tone.

“My mother did not drop me on my head as a child! Yours dropped you on _your_ head as a child!” Bucky protests.

“Please, I had nannies, not a mother, and they were paid _not_ to drop me thank you,” Tony says, nose in the air.

“Didn’t mean they did their job right considering you came out a barbarian who doesn’t like pineapple on pizza. Clearly something went wrong,” Bucky says.

“He likes pineapple on pizza? Dump him,” Rhodey says, offending Bucky all over again, “I’m just saying, he’s clearly not right if he likes pineapple on pizza.”

“Don’t you fucking dare, Stark, Bucky is the best thing that’s ever happened to you. That’s a lie, Pepper is the best thing to have ever happened to you but Bucky is up there, _you’re_ the one with the problem because pineapple on pizza is the _best_ ,” Natasha says, jumping into the argument.

“That’s pretty true in regards to Pepper…” Tony says, earning a scandalized look from Rhodey.

“Screw you, _I’m_ the best thing that’s ever happened to you, asshole!”

“Do you make sure his dry cleaning comes in on time? No? Than you aren’t the best thing that’s ever happened to him, imagine if he had to do his own laundry, it would be Armageddon,” Natasha says dramatically.

Rhodey considers this and nods, “you’re probably right about that, honestly. But I taught him about poverty so I feel like I win, he had a lot of misconceptions.”

“Oh give me a break, Rhodes, I was the son of a millionaire. Forgive me for thinking being poor meant you could only afford to pay your bills, I didn’t think squalor was legal,” Tony says, giving Rhodey an irritated look.

“What the hell did you think homelessness was?” Bucky asks, frowning at Tony’s logic.

“I was twelve, I didn’t know they didn’t have homes, I thought that was their job or something,” he says.

“Okay, maybe you win because what the fuck,” Natasha says, frowning at Tony.

“ _Told_ you. Now order the pizza Stark, you know what I like,” Rhodey tells him, grinning.

“Screw you and what you like, I’m getting what _I_ like,” Tony says boldly, at least until Natasha gave him a _look_. “I won’t get something you hate,” Tony compromises, picking up his phone to order the food.

They’re all bickering about the most ridiculous things Tony has ever said and so far Rhodey was in the lead, Bucky taking second with their first date and the hellbeast thing, when the pizza gets there. He felt personally proud that he managed to almost outdo someone who has known Tony for longer than he hasn’t. Tony, however, looks horrified at Rhodey having acquired this knowledge and Bucky watches Natasha file that away for later. In order to save himself he all but flings himself out of his seat to collect the pizza, jostling Bucky, who had been leaning into Tony far more than he thought. Tony might have spared him some if not for the hellbeast thing but Bucky couldn’t help how ridiculous that was. He blamed Tony of that.

“I’m pissed he hasn’t gone on more dates now because that was _gold_. Keep me updated on any embarrassing additions, yeah?” Rhodey asks.

“Oh, if you want embarrassing dates have I got a doozy,” he says, grinning hard. Payback’s a bitch, Steve. Rhodey leans forward in interest, Natasha leaning with him as Tony returned with the pizza.

“What do we look so interested in?” Tony asks, setting the pizza on the coffee table and dropping back into his seat.

“Bucky’s got an embarrassing date story,” Rhodey tells his as he and Natasha attack the boxes of pizza. Bucky goes to fetch himself a slice before Rhodey and Natasha eat everything and Tony gently pushes him back.

“ _I’ll_ get your portion,” he says and Bucky sulks, forgetting that part of their arrangement. Tony leans forward and hands him a _slice_ of pizza, causing further sulking, “don’t look at me like that, be lucky you’re getting any, you’re supposed to be on a diet.”

“Pizza’s got most of the food groups on it,” he protests. There was like dairy, meat, and wheat or whatever. And you could add a vegetable, it was basically healthy.

“Enjoy your last hurrah before you’re stuck with veggies,” Tony tells him, grinning when Bucky pouts more. He probably shouldn’t complain that he didn’t actually have to buy groceries anymore thanks to Tony being worried that he didn’t eat right (he didn’t) but he was still going to miss the hell out of pizza. Broccoli was fine but pizza was _life_.

“If there was pineapple on it I could count it as a fruit,” Bucky points out, earning a disgusted look from Tony.

“Amen,” Natasha says, earning the same look of disgust Tony had on his face but from Rhodey instead.

“Enjoy what you’ve got and eat your junk food before you don’t have any anymore. And weren’t you supposed to tell some embarrassing date story?” he asks, trying and failing to distract Bucky from his measly pizza slice.

“I don’t get treats?” he asks, pouting.

“Oh my _god_ that’s adorable,” Rhodey says, all but cooing at him. Natasha clearly shared the opinion because she lets out a soft ‘aww’.

“Not if you keep whining at me,” Tony says, not letting up at all. Bucky blinks a few times, making his eyes wider and more puppy like. This earns a couple small squeals out of Natasha and Rhodey, who were all but clinging to each other now.

“I’m not whining,” he says in a voice he had to admit was pretty whiney, but it was also small and cute.

Natasha and Rhodey were puddles but Tony didn’t even melt, “are so. Eat you pizza and tell your story,” Tony tells him.

“I can’t believe you denied him. You have like… and iron will,” Natasha tells him, looking tempted to give him more pizza herself.

“The story,” Tony prompts when Bucky looks too hopeful. Bucky sighs and accepts his fate but settles for embarrassing the hell out of future Steve when he inevitable met Tony and learned that Tony knew _all_ about Sharon and that misadventure. Plus he now had a lovely flipside story starring Sharon freaking out over somehow dating the same guy her aunt Peggy was with for almost two years. She was almost more horrified than Steve had been and Bucky makes sure to play that up too. He was going for maximum shame here.

The others find the situation hilarious and just a little gross, which was far better than how the actual participants in the weird could-have-been-incest-even-if-it-was-just-by-marriage kiss. The two of them were determined to never speak to Peggy again and poor Sharon had to make it through a Lunch of Shame with the woman. Bucky _so_ wished he had been there to see just how Peggy had taken _that_. Probably not well even if she would have handled it far better than her niece, who all but crawled under the table in shame while her would-be boyfriend literally ran in the opposite direction. He tops the tale off with Steve’s managing to somehow squeeze himself out of Bucky’s bathroom window in an effort to avoid seeing Sharon ever again only to be interrupted by Sharon knocking on the door to share her own horrifying tale.

“So,” he says when he’s finished with all of that, “I feel like I’ve earned another slice of pizza.” He grins at Tony, giving him a hopeful look only to be met with Tony’s own grin, signaling that he wasn’t getting anywhere. Bucky pouts and gives the last slice of pizza a mournful look of longing, silently promising to eat its brethren.

“Oh don’t look so upset,” Tony tells him, “you get fancy grapes.” He wraps his arm around Bucky and he’s tempted to pout some more so he could snag that last slice but he’s weak so he melt into Tony’s touch instead, curling into his side. “See, there you go,” Tony says softly, gently running his fingers down Bucky’s side. He presses his lips to the top of Bucky’s head and he sighs in contentment, even if he didn’t get that last pizza slice.

“Get a room,” Natasha says, interrupting the moment by tossing a pepperoni at Tony. It lands on his cheek with a wet smack, surprising Tony. Before he can react Bucky snatches the piece of meat and sticks in in his mouth, leaning up to lick Tony’s cheek free of food remnants.

“You’re testing you limits,” Tony tells him but he blinks innocently enough that Tony finally melts a little, “that face is very cute, stop making it.” Bucky makes sure to look extra cute and he _finally_ earns that last slice of pizza. Ha, Tony zero, Bucky one, pizza none.


	18. Chapter 18

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this chapter ended up being _way_ longer than intended. And most of it is just shameless BDSM because I was in the mood to write it, and hopefully the third time is the charm and I hit some sort of balance between the last two scenes!
> 
> So warnings for a mention of terrorism and some mentions of Rumlow and all that comes with him (mostly bad BDSM etiquette), and I think that's it for anything negative. If not let me know, and I'll add it in.
> 
> Play includes: Bucky being a brat, gags, blindfolds, music, sensory deprivation, a tiiiiny bit of overstimulation, a liiiiitle bit of objectification (barely, but worth a mention), ice play, some other forms of temperature play, subspace, and some safety practices to go along with these things. 
> 
> Also [this](http://8tracks.com/idril/classical-paradise) is the playlist I usually put on when I'm writing these scenes so you can get a feel for what the hell Bucky has been listening to if you'd like.

Bucky couldn’t believe that between the choice of running a story on yet another terrorist attack or Tony’s orientation the news fucking picked _Tony_. And they claimed that _he_ was the one who thought he was so special and different or whatever, yet _they_ were the ones making such a huge deal about this whole thing. Tony didn’t even care; it was what it was as he put it and if it wasn’t for everyone else freaking out over it this would have faded from news long ago. But no, everyone insisted on having all the dirty details even though Tony informed them there _were_ no dirty details.

He watches the news in some sort of morbid fascination as poor Tony gets mobbed by a bunch of people asking incredibly invasive questions as if it was ever okay to do such a thing and Tony finally spins around. “You,” he says, pointing out some pretty blonde journalist, “what’s your orientation?” She answers, Dom, and Tony nods, “alright, you ever have some bright shining moment you can pick out where you realized this or did you just sort of know? You people _do_ realize that just because I’m different doesn’t mean I had a moment when I realized that right? Wanna know when I knew I was a Dom? Like forever, but that isn’t the answer you want, is it? There was no moment when I realized I was a freak of nature; no moment in which I noticed I wasn’t like other subs given I’ve never been one, and no moment for you all to talk about for the next three weeks as if my orientation is newsworthy. So fuck off,” he snaps, throwing his hands up in frustration.

Tony turns on his heel and walks away and the mob tries to surge forward to follow but Happy manages to wedge himself between Tony and the mob so the poor guy could escape. Steve sends his own opinions of this blow by blow now that they’re on speaking terms again, agreeing with Tony much to Bucky’s surprise. Then it dawns on him that Steve doesn’t actually _know_ about him and Tony so there was no reason for him to be jealous at the moment. He guessed he’d have to fill Steve in on who he was seeing eventually but for now he enjoyed Steve’s righteous texts about how people were using Tony’s orientation as an excuse to not cover actual news. At least he was right about that.

*

When he didn’t do this often he didn’t notice how antsy he got without it, but now that he was more active with scenes Bucky noticed right away when his behaviors started to shift. First he would be more irritable than normal but he’d keep it to himself, then he’d get grumpy with everyone else, and then he just started avoiding everything. Obviously he knew the psychological effects not engaging his sub instincts on some level but it was different when he was experiencing it. When tony texts asking if he’s been in a bad mood lately he’s grateful he isn’t the only one with the inexplicable urge to punch everything.

_I freaked out at Pepper earlier_

_She got me coffee_

_She never does that_

_I’ve been an ass_

Bucky reads Tony’s texts and snorts because yeah, he has been an ass and he tells Tony that too. Granted he shouldn’t talk, poor Steve got snapped at for texting him too early even though he did that all the time. Or at least he did before the whole ‘I’m secretly in love with you’ thing. Bucky apologized but it was still something he didn’t want to make a habit of, it was rude and Steve didn’t really deserve that.

_Yeah yeah_

_I told her I was an ass_

_Natasha was givin me The Look_

_If I die she did it_

He shakes his head at Tony’s tirade, doubtful that Natasha would out and out kill him. She’d probably just hang around menacingly and let Tony stew in the ‘what ifs’, he’d probably be more creative in imagining his own death than Natasha would be. Plus Natasha probably has better thinks to do. Tony takes offense to Natasha having better things to do than murder him, making Bucky wonder about Tony’s being a bit of an attention seeker at times. Like this time, he should probably be happy that Natasha had no interest in murdering him but of course Tony didn’t see it that way. Either way he’s infinitely glad that Tony asks him to come over later because he really needed to get rid of that itch under his skin.

*

As much as he understood the importance of food before a scene he was almost irritated that Tony was making him eat. The food, pirogues, looks great but he wanted to get to the damn point. Tony must be fucking intent on torturing him though because Bucky _swears_ he’s dragging this out for far longer than necessary. “Don’t look at me like that, did you eat before you got here?” he asks and Bucky sulks on his pillow. At least it was soft, but then Tony was intent on making him comfortable while he tortured him with the food. “Didn’t think so, and we aren’t doing this in an empty stomach so open your mouth and quit your moping around,” Tony tells him, commands him really.

Bucky opens his mouth and takes the food but he’s still resentful that he has to wait. Patience has never been his strong suit, probably from too much time spent with Steve, King of No Patience. Tony makes sure to feed him slowly, ensuring that he’s swallowed what was placed in his mouth before he even considers giving him another bite and Bucky is _so_ tempted to just march off to Tony’s bedroom in protest. Unfortunately all that would get him is whatever punishment Tony decided to dole out and he had no clue what Tony would consider a punishment and he wasn’t keen on finding out either.

Instead of giving him his next bite Tony holds it hostage, “you’re still pouting,” he says. He opens his mouth to respond and thinks better of it when none of the responses were all that pleasant. “Wise decision,” Tony tells him and he holds out the fork with that damn pirogue on it. He takes the bite gently but chews the food resentfully, eyeing how much is left on the plate before he could escape and actually _do_ things. “The longer you sit there acting like a brat the longer I’m dragging this out,” Tony says and Bucky kicks himself for not realizing sooner. Of fucking _course_ this was the damn punishment, though in Tony’s defense it was working really well. Bucky forces himself to relax some and Tony spears more pirogue. He’s still annoyed even though the process goes faster, and he just about throws a fit when he makes Bucky drink some.

In Tony’s slight defense he doesn’t make Bucky drink a lot, nothing ruins a scene faster than a full bladder but _still_. The worst part is that Tony fucking _knows_ how much he’s irritating Bucky and he’s enjoying it too, drawing out the space between his own enjoyment and Bucky’s. He’d protest but that would only mean his own gratification would be held off longer so he grudgingly deals with Tony’s food and drinks and whatever the hell else he was going to do just to make Bucky suffer. “Go to the bedroom,” Tony tells Bucky after making him sit there for an excruciating five minutes while Tony cleaned things. What rich guy _cleaned_ anything?

“Slowly,” Tony instructs when Bucky all but jumps to his feet. He grudgingly walks at a relatively normal pace to Tony’s room, looking around the space but there was nothing to give away what happened next. He doesn’t know if he’s happy about that or annoyed. On one level it sort of ups the stakes a little, not knowing what was about to happen to him and the thought makes him shiver in anticipation. On a more practical level he felt like he’s waited long enough, thanks, not that he was about to tell Tony that. Instead he quietly kneels on the ground like a good sub and waits for Tony.

The man takes like a _million_ years to _finally_ grace Bucky with his presence and when he does he stays plenty far away from him, too far away. He squirms some but all that does is get Tony to move further away. Damnit. “You’re not very cooperative today,” Tony notes, raising an eyebrow. Bucky scowls at him. “Case and point,” Tony says, gesturing to his current facial expression, “you’re going to need something more than what we’ve done before and I have _plenty_ of ideas.” Bucky waits but Tony doesn’t elaborate, obviously wanting to watch Bucky’s world burn or something equivalent.

He walks around slowly doing _something_ not that Bucky knew what it was. Not paying attention to him anyways, and that was annoying. Eventually he hears a drawer open and he thanks his god damn lucky stars that Tony was finally getting on with the damn show but when Tony walks back over he’s empty handed. Bucky _barely_ resists the urge to groan and Tony fucking know it too, leaning slightly away when Bucky leans forward in a sad attempt to receive some sort of touch. Slowly, too slowly, Tony reaches out and brushes his fingers down the side of Bucky’s face. He keens, leaning into the touch but Tony moves away far too soon and the noise turns into a growl of frustration. Tony laughs, shaking his head at Bucky’s plight as he moves away _again_ to go do something that was not petting Bucky. What an _ass_.

Tony walks away again and Bucky anchors himself to the floor, using all his willpower not to go crawling after Tony seeking attention. He had _some_ pride left though he was quickly loosing it. When Tony returns he’s got something behind his back but he doesn’t seem intent on letting Bucky see whatever it is. “You look antsy,” he says, grinning at him like the cat that caught the mouse.

Bucky admits that he kid of feels like Tony’s mouse given how much he’s being toyed with. “What is it that you want, honey?” he says, swaying forward just a little.

“Touch me,” Bucky blurts. So much for pride.

“Where?” Tony asks, tilting his head to the side and surveying Bucky’s body. He’s shirtless, like usual, not that he was paying much attention to that. He was far more interested in the way Tony was looking at him, licking his lips lightly like he saw something he liked.

He leans forward again, “anywhere,” he breaths, the word coming out soft and light.

“Not specific enough,” Tony chirps, walking away without ever showing Bucky what he had behind his back. He can’t help the noise of frustration that leaves his throat and Tony doesn’t even _acknowledge_ it. That only makes him grit his teeth in annoyance more. Tony takes his sweet ass time coming back, rummaging around in the bathroom attached to his bedroom. He scolds Bucky when he catches him looking over his shoulder so Bucky sits there scowling at the wall.

When Tony finally comes back he moves to sit behind Bucky, perched on the end of his bed. When the brush hits his hair he anticipates it from previous scenes and leans into the touch, smiling as the bristles worked through his long hair. The brush works though rhythmically, gently pulling the knots out of his hair and smoothing down the frizz some. The sensation is pleasant but he finds himself losing focus quickly, almost missing when the brush falls change and start pulling his hair back instead of down. Tony gently pulls the strands back, running his fingers through after the brush and Bucky pushes into _that_ because it held his attention more. But then Tony’s damn fingers leave his scalp and it’s replaced with the fucking brush.

He pulls the hair back, lifting it some before pulling the rest of the hair up with it and tying a band around it, pulling the hair though until it was in a bun just above the center of his head. “I hope you don’t plan on cutting your hair,” Tony says softly before he _moves_ again, away from Bucky no less. If his hair was going to keep Tony around for more than four seconds he would gladly grow it out as long as he needed to. Okay, that’s a lie, he made a promise to himself that he would never look like a hippie so it wasn’t going to go further than his clavicle but still. He listens to Tony do… something as patiently as possible, that is not say not patiently at all, until he finally comes back over. Tony’s hand traces some loose strands of his hair back and Bucky leans into the touch, eyes fluttering shut as he does but then Tony removes his hand and Bucky is left with nothing again.

“Impatient,” Tony chides lightly, “I have some ideas that need your approval. Don’t answer me right away, I want you to think.” Bucky resists the urge to shift in impatience, barely, and Tony hands him a blindfold. Fine, they’ve done this before so he didn’t see why they were going over this but Tony gives him a _look_ so he considers it. The blindfold wasn’t sheer like the last couple times they’ve done this but he was all right with that, he closed his eyes the last couple times so he hadn’t seen anything anyways. This wasn’t new and he liked it before so he was fine with it now.

He looks back up at Tony, who gives him an approving nod and hands him something new. He takes the material, mistaking it for another blindfold for a moment before he spots the knot. Ahh, knotted cleave gag. They had had this discussion before and Bucky wasn’t opposed to it but he hadn’t been overly interested either. When he looks back up, about to ask how he was supposed to communicate with this thing on Tony hands him a set of keys, “jingle them in place of a safe word,” he says. Bucky takes the keys gingerly and examines the gag, considering. It was made of material so at least he wouldn’t have to worry about drool, and he had an alternative method of communication…

With his decision made his sits back and looks at Tony, keeping the gag and the keys in his hand. Tony’s lips tip up some and he reaches into his pocket, pulling out… “the hell are those?” he asks, looking at the small objects in Tony’s hand.

“Wireless ear buds,” he says and pauses, letting that sink in. So he wouldn’t be able to see, hear, or speak… he bits his lip, considering and Tony waits patiently so his answer. That was a lot but… but this was Tony and he hasn’t steered him wrong yet, even with that weird math thing. And he could say no, he knows Tony would listen, unlike Brock…

He stops that line of thinking there and looks back up at Tony, “okay,” he says.

“Good,” Tony says, smiling slowly and Bucky leans forward, anticipating a touch with the praise but then Tony walks away with the damn ear buds.

“No,” Bucky whines, pouting at the wall in front of him.

“Well that’s got to be the first to go,” Tony says from across the room. Bucky almost asks what he means but then he’s back and he takes the gag from Bucky’s hand, shoving it in his mouth when he goes to say something. “You okay?” Tony asks after a moment of watching Bucky glare at him in annoyance. He nods though because he’s fine, and it wasn’t even tied yet. Tony brushes his fingers along his jaw and pulls back the moment Bucky leans into it, “good,” he says and reaches for the fabric hanging out of Bucky’s mouth, securing the gag almost at the base of his neck. It left room for the blindfold, he knew, and that’s what Tony takes next but he doesn’t put it on.

“Ground rules, when I touch you jaw I’m asking if you’re okay, got that?” Tony asks, tracing his fingers on the underside of Bucky’s jaw as demonstration. Bucky nods because the concept wasn’t exactly difficult to grasp and he wanted to move on with this already. Tony repeats the action, dragging the pads on his fingers along the underside of Bucky’s jaw. When he doesn’t respond Tony raises an eyebrow at him and _oh_ this was a test, duh. He nods because he’s perfectly fine and Tony can like move on already. “Good. Now, when I touch your elbow I want you to stand,” he says, touching his elbow as demonstration, thankfully not the metal one. But then Tony seemed to understand he was self conscious about it, something he was thankful for. He touches his elbow again and this time Bucky wasn’t dumb enough to fail the damn test and he stands as instructed. “Good, now kneel,” he says, grinning when Bucky gives him a look. But he sinks back to the floor like he was supposed to and he waits.

Tony hands him the ear buds and tells him to put them in so he does as instructed, listening as the classical that was typically playing in the back ground overtook his hearing. The music wasn’t loud but it did ensure that there was no chance he was going to be able to hear Tony moving around or anticipate what he was going to do next. The thought sends a shiver down his spine as he fixes the buds in his ears. He sees Tony nod and then he holds up the blindfold. Bucky expects him to tie it on but he doesn’t, he just stands there for a moment until Bucky realizes he’s asking for permission and that he wasn’t moving until he got it. Bucky nods the okay and Tony steps in close, close enough that he could feel Tony’s body heat and smell his expensive cologne, and he carefully places the blindfold around Bucky’s head and the world goes dark.

Nothing happens for a long moment while Bucky adjusts to his knew position, clinging to the keys in his hand even if he doesn’t think he’ll need them. He can’t see anything but darkness, can’t feel anything but the cotton fabric across his eyes and in his mouth, and can’t hear anything over the swelling crescendo of the song that was playing. He strains to hear something past the steady notes and string instruments but he hears nothing, feels nothing, and can’t anticipate anything. Patience has never been his virtue but oh, he sits there for a _long_ time before he finally feels something and he straightens, expecting something to come but all he gets the slight breeze he felt. Probably Tony walking by or something.

The music continues to play; drawing his attention elsewhere momentarily as a few notes to the current melody play in a soft symphony. Then he feels something else, another slight breeze like Tony just walked by again and he sits straighter again but nothing comes of it. He clutches the keys tighter in an effort to feel _something_ , anything but nothing, when another breeze hits him. This was stronger than the last two, like Tony had moved something large and the movement left a cool wind to hit his back. What caused the sensation he had no idea and he gets no time to ponder it because something soft hits his shoulder so briefly he almost didn’t notice it. He waits for something else but that was all he got and after a moment he started to wonder if he even felt something or if he was making things up.

He feels another breeze move by and he tries to lean towards it, to lean towards touch but he’s too late and his opportunity is gone. Sighing, he sits back in his previous position, almost missing the warmth radiating from his right side from a body that wasn’t his own. As soon as he realizes it’s there he moves towards it but Tony is gone before he reaches him and Bucky thinks he lets out a whine. He shivers due to the cool temperature of the room and the desire to be held, pet, appreciated. Instead he’s left in the center of nothing, his world reduced to music, the keys in his left hand, and the hope that Tony will come back for him soon.

It’s a long while before he notices a change in the air, well, smells a difference. Tony’s expensive cologne, he’d be able to pick that scent out anywhere. He waits for something else to come with it but that’s all he gets at the moment, the knowledge that Tony was around because the air smelled strongly of his scent. The thought of Tony being there, watching him, playing with him makes him shiver slightly.

The scent lingers in the air and Bucky sits there for so long with nothing moving around him he is unprepared for the softness that brushes along his right shoulder, all bur forcing a shudder out of him. The soft texture moves down his arm and the feeling is so present and _strong_ that it’s almost too much to handle after being held in a suspended state of nothingness for so long. As soon as the thought is complete the softness is removed and Bucky sags, already mourning its loss and craving more. The music continues to play in his ear, eliminating the possibility of hearing where Tony was going or if he was coming back.

By the time a new soft object hits his skin he’s almost shaking he’s craving touch so badly. The texture is cool to the touch, warming as it’s dragged along his skin, over his shoulders, around his neck, gone- Bucky knows he whines at the loss of the silk, or at least he assumes it was silk. A light trail of fingers along his jaw draws him out of his musing of what the texture was but it takes a moment to remember the command. He nods his okay to Tony and tries to lean towards where he thinks Tony is standing but the effort is useless. He slumps back into his previous position and waits. And _waits_.

Finally, mercifully, he feels a small touch on his elbow and he stands, remembering Tony’s instructions. For a moment nothing happens and then he feels Tony’s hand on his chest, pushing gently. He takes a small step back, and then another, and then Tony _pushes_. Bucky falls, working easily with the silent instruction until it occurs to him he had no idea _where_ he was falling. For all he knew he was about to hit the ground hard, like Brock- Before panic can truly set in though he lands on Tony’s bed with a soft thud, bouncing once before settling into the squishy mattress. The silk of Tony’s sheets is cool against the bare skin of his upper body and he shivers against it as he sinks further into the softness of the bed. He feels the mattress dip slightly near his left leg but then the sensation goes, leaving Bucky confused for a moment before he feels the same thing but on his right this time. That sensation goes too and Bucky knows he lets out a whine or irritation.

The music pauses for a moment and as it starts back up he feels the mattress dip again but this time he feels body heat too. He reaches for Tony with his free hand but it never makes it. Tony catches the wrist and plants it firmly on the bed, instructions clear. No touching. Bucky lets out another whine and clutches his keys harder in one hand and grasps Tony’s sheets with the other, _needing_ touch, attention. As if Tony could read his mind he shifts himself over Bucky’s body and he feels Tony’s hands land on his sides and he lets out a sharp gasp around the gag as he arches into Tony’s touch. Tony gently pushes him back into the mattress but his hands don’t leave Bucky’s sides, running down them to his hips, stopping there and rubbing his thumbs over his hips bones. Bucky shudders at the touch, whining for more.

Tony delivers. Bucky feels the mattress shift beside him until he feels hot air hit his stomach. He squirms at the feeling of Tony’s breath against his skin and he’s rewarded with another hot breath across his lower belly. The mattress shifts again and he feels a slight brush of skin against his own, and then another, and then Tony nuzzles his stomach, causing Bucky to arch into it all but begging for more without words. Tony pulls back and Bucky groans at the loss just as the music picks back up again, swelling almost loudly in his ears as the mattress shifts slightly. The hands on his hips, thankfully, don’t go anywhere during this process and then Tony is everywhere.

He presses his lips to Bucky’s stomach, one hand sliding up his side to his arm and it slides up that too, lifting it into position over Bucky’s head an pinning it there. He holds his arm down just below the wrist, leaving enough room for Bucky to open his hand and shakes the keys he was holding if he needed to. His other hand remains firmly planted on Bucky’s hip, his nails biting in a little as his fingers curl almost tightly around the flesh there. Tony nips lightly at the skin on his stomach, nuzzling certain places, and simply skimming over others when barely there touches. Bucky shivers and moans, arching into the touch as much as possible, reveling in Tony’s attention, carving more of it.

Tony’s kisses move up his stomach, teeth hitting his skin every now and again, until he gets to Bucky’s neck. He throws his head back, eager to give Tony access to the sensitive skin there and he doesn’t disappoint. He licks at the skin there, nuzzling the side of his neck before gently nipping at the space he nuzzled. Bucky lets out a low moan around the gag as Tony’s fingernails dig a little deeper into Bucky’s hip. Tony moves up the side of his neck, finding his pulse and licking at it, causing Bucky to let out a full body shudder and a small moan before he sucks at the skin there. Bucky bites down on the gag and throws his head back further, inviting Tony to do it again and he does, earning another moan from Bucky. Tony grazes his teeth across the spot, worrying the skin there and tightening his grip on Bucky’s right arm. The grip is almost bruising and Bucky enjoys it, wants more of it, but instead Tony drags his hand back down Bucky arm and sits back and away from Bucky’s neck. He makes an irritated noise at the loss.

His hand drags slowly down Bucky’s arm, over his shoulder and to his jaw, brushing the underside lightly. Bucky nods that he’s fine, except maybe that Tony was barely touching him now but there was only so much he could get across in a single gesture. His skin feels oversensitive and his head feels light and fuzzy, immersed in the scene, in Tony. Tony’s hand drags down some more, circling behind Bucky’s head so he lifts it some for convenience, surprised when Tony pulls the knot from the gag. He gently pulls the fabric free from Bucky’s mouth and brushes his hand along the underside of Bucky’s jaw again. “M’okay, m’okay, jus want more, please, _please_ ,” he says quickly. He feels his words slur, half from having his mouth clamped over the material knot for so long and from his altered state of mind.

He feels the air from Tony’s laugh hit his chest as Tony leans into him, nuzzling at the sensitive skin on his neck. Tony pulls away again and Bucky groans until he feels Tony’s hand move again, brushing over his throat and settling around his neck. He doesn’t do close his fingers but Bucky wants him to, tipping his head back and shivering with need. “Please,” Bucky bites out, “choke me, please.” He can feels Tony fingers shift slightly, considering the request, itching to do it and Bucky encourages with another plea. Tony’s fingers flex and the hand on Bucky’s hip tightens again, nails biting into his skin as he considers. “Please,” Bucky whispers and Tony fingers close in on the sides of his neck for a fraction of a second before they release him but that’s all Bucky needs to fall.

The sensation is different from last time, when he felt light and fuzzy. This time the fuzziness remains but he feels heavy, like he’s swimming underwater and Tony is the only thing acting as a buoy to keep his head above water. His limbs feel weighted and heavy, his whole body does, and his breathing slows some as Tony’s fingers trail down his chest and stomach and then the touch is gone. He feels only mild curiosity through the think wave of subspace, and the want for Tony to come back. It feels like a long time sitting there until something cold is set on his chest and he shivers, frowning at the new sensation.

It was _cold_ and the coldness was spreading slowly over his belly, spilling over his sides and down onto the sheets. Ice, he realizes, and it was melting. Another cold spot is added, this time at the hollow of his neck, and another right over his belly button. The cold slowly seeps into his skin, spreading slowly as the ice melts and holding Bucky deep in the thick water of subspace as the sensation overtook his body, growing until he was cold all over and shivering. He waits for warmth, for Tony, for what seems like a long time before cool air hits his stomach. The mattress dips, almost like it was moving in time with the slow, heavy waves of Bucky’s subspace as Tony shifts closer to him. The next time air hits his skin it feels warm and Bucky revels in it, wanting more of the warmth Tony had to offer.

For a moment they stay like that, Tony hovering somewhere around him and Bucky lying there prone, vulnerable. He shivers thinking about it; about lying there waiting for whatever Tony was about to do next, how he would use Bucky, how he was at Tony’s mercy. The thought pushes him deeper down as warmth spreads across his stomach. The light brushes of skin against his own causes him so shudder slightly as the warmth moves up higher, following closely after the skin-to-skin contact. Kisses, Bucky realizes and the sensations is followed with that warmth…

Cool air hits his skin after the warmth goes away and he recognizes the warm sensation at it moves up towards his neck. Tony’s tongue licking the water from the ice off of him. He thinks he might have let out a small moan from that but he isn’t quite sure and he can’t hear himself over the music. When Tony’s tongue gets to the hollow of his neck he pauses for only a moment before lapping at the water there, causing Bucky to shiver slightly. His tongue is warm and pleasant, chasing away the cold from the ice as one of his hands runs over Bucky’s stomach and chest, pausing slightly when he reached Bucky’s neck but he moves his hand over that too, twitching slightly when Bucky tilts his head back, baring his throat.

Tony buries his face in the crook of Bucky’s neck for a moment before pulling himself free and gently reaching for Bucky’s ear. He carefully pulls the buds free and for a moment Bucky doesn’t know what to do with the silence so he ignores it. It isn’t hard, feeling weighted down like this, his brain thick and fuzzy from the scene. At least until he hears something, Tony, he thinks. The sound is soft and coaxing, quietly calling Bucky towards it, closer, closer…

He blinks but that seems to do him little good, “shh,” Tony’s voice comes, “you’ve still got the blindfold on baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Bucky relaxes immediately and follows Tony’s gentle prodding into a new position further up the bed, towards the pillows. He curls into the soft down immediately, reaching out for Tony so he could join him. Tony gently touches his arm and pulls the keys from his hand, Bucky had forgot he was even holding the damn things, but then he’s gone again. He makes a soft sound at the loss and Tony laughs softly, “it’s okay, I’m right here. I’m just putting these keys away, okay?” he tells Bucky. He waits for Tony only because he has to.

The dip in the mattress indicates Tony’s return and Bucky immediately crawls into his space, tucking himself neatly into Tony’s side.

*

Tony lets him sit like that for a little while, adjusting to his surroundings again. He hit subspace _deep_ this time and Tony hadn’t been expecting it, and certainly not from his hand wrapped around Bucky’s neck. That had been a soft limit when they had ran through things and the only reason Tony had even paused in his movements there was because of the shift in Bucky’s body language. He felt the shudder Bucky let out, watched his head tip back and asked Tony to choke him. And oh, he’d been fucking _tempted_ with Bucky so pliant and easy, begging for it, literally. His fingers itched to close around the soft white surface of Bucky’s neck, to squeeze just a little, to watch Bucky’s eyes flutter if they weren’t behind that damn blindfold but…

But they hadn’t discussed that and impromptu breath play was fucking stupid, that wasn’t the kind of thing you fuck around with so he had closed his fingers just a little, a promise of more so long as Bucky still agreed when he wasn’t so keyed up and then he was _gone_. He tipped heavily over into subspace, dragging Tony into his own high as he watched Bucky fall deep and hard. It was a fucking sight to see that was for sure and if he was going to get more results like _that_ he hoped Bucky agreed to that breath play. He’d be damn disappointed if he said no but it would give him a project in finding another way to get Bucky to react like that so it wasn’t all bad.

Right now though, with Bucky tucked into his side, practically glued there after their scene, he shivers in delight. It’s been a long, _long_ time since he’s done something that intense and _wow_ were the results amazing. He feels light, like the stress of his regular life has been cut free however temporarily and it was heady. So was watching Bucky curl so tightly into his side like he was made to be there. He still had the blindfold wrapped around his head, dark against his pale skin but blending in with his dark hair. “You’re gorgeous,” he tells Bucky, running his fingers down the sub’s side and earning a small shiver for his efforts. Tony revels in the reaction, Bucky responded so easily even if he was less than cooperative when this all started.

He gently prods Bucky, “but you’ve got to move a little now so I can get that blindfold off,” he says. Bucky groans and curls into a tighter ball, “oh no, no, up you get, you can’t sleep just yet. You have juice to drink and a blindfold to remove and _then_ you can sleep,” he says. This took a lot out of Bucky, and Tony for that matter, it was important to make sure his blood sugar didn’t fucking plummet in the middle of the night, or ten minutes from now honestly. Bucky groans softly but he carefully pulls himself into a quasi-sitting position and Tony carefully turns to face him. He saved this for a reason and he was intent on enjoying it.

Bucky makes a noise of displeasure at the loss but Tony replaces the touch with fingers along Bucky’s jaw. “M’fine,” Bucky slurs out and Tony smiles, shaking his head because the poor sub was still stuck halfway in the scene. Well, removing the blindfold and giving him some juice should help.

“I know baby,” he says softly, rubbing his thumb along Bucky’s cheek. “Now look at me,” he says and Bucky tilts his head towards Tony, judging with alright accuracy where he was but tony fine tunes it a little. He reaches behind Bucky’s head and finds the knot to the blindfold easily, pulling to release the strip of material. Bucky blinks, his eyelashes fluttering as he adjusts to the dim light of the room but his eyes are on Tony. When he focuses in Tony watches as his face goes from processing the new light his eyes were being exposed to to a slow smile that took over his face, lighting up his features from the inside. This was one of his favorite things to do, watch a sub’s face after being blindfolded for awhile, but it was always better when they were looking at him. Aside from being a somewhat unrepentant attention whore it was a rush, seeing that much joy and trust and happiness on a person’s face just from seeing you.

Bucky could look away but he doesn’t, instead he choses to continue taking in Tony’s features, melting into his touch as he trailed his fingers down Bucky’s arm. Yeah, he could do this forever. Bucky sways forward and Tony meets him half way, pressing their lips together as he reached into Bucky’s messy hair to hold his head there for a few moments so he could take in his sub. Juice could wait a few minutes.


	19. Chapter 19

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh god. I am weak. I cried TWICE while writing the end of this chapter! Anyways, plot is back in the game and this story is coming to an end soon. Probs a few more chapters and than I'll be done with this one. 
> 
> Anyways, warnings for this chapter include mentions of torture, some alluding to Natasha's past and all that entails, and A.I.M. I think that's it but as always let me know if I need to add something in and I will.

Obi made one hell of a mess and Tony was pissed that he was the one stuck cleaning it. He was into all sorts of shit that Agent just _loved_ to sniff around. Bucky had mentioned that he had a Dom but Tony couldn’t see it. The guy was a total control freak; Tony has seen that color-coded date book of his. Even the guy’s _field notes_ were color-coded, Tony had a hard time believing that he could ever give up an ounce of control, plus he didn’t have a tell tale collar.

“If you don’t stop staring at my neck I’m going to assume you’re a vampire,” Agent tells him. Tony rolls his eyes but looks away, back into more of Obi’s files and misdeeds. They were mounting very quickly and in so many different areas that Tony kind of wanted to hurl.

“I can assure you that even if I was a vampire I would want nothing to do with your neck, Agent, I have _taste_ ,” he says, sneering at the man.

“Like Bucky? Ever nibble on his neck?” Agent asks cheekily.

“Is that your business? Because I don’t see how Bucky’s neck relates to terrorism at all,” he points out.

“Then stop staring at my collarless neck, Clint doesn’t do collars,” Agent says primly.

Tony snorts, “his loss.” Normally he wouldn’t care; collars weren’t a mandatory thing anymore, especially in relationships where both people were switches. They were supposed to indicate who played what role in a relationship but a lot of switches didn’t identify one way or another, so a collar was something of a loss of identity. Agent, however, was so not a switch even if Tony was certain he wasn’t a real sub either. More like a robot and not even a cool one. Or like neutral or something… “Oh my god all those damn vanilla movements screaming about not identifying as anything are probably just neutral or something. I mean they’re a bunch of assholes for trying to pathologize orientations, but they might have a bit of a point in not leaning any which way,” he says, eyes wide with realization.

He expects Agent to mock him or something but his eyes grow wide, “you might be onto something there. I… well, I identify as a sub, biologically that’s what I am but… eh, I’ve never really felt connected to it. To anything really, I never even _considered_ that. You really are a genius,” Agent says, leaning against Obi’s old desk and taking that information in. “What even determines you orientation?” Agent asks.

“Some sort of gene markers. I don’t have the specifics and I’ve never been bothered to look them up. But if you have certain markers you’re a sub, and if you have other markers you’re a Dom. I think switches have some sort of combination of both but there’s a lot of debate around that. I mean people didn’t even legally recognize them until the eighties so. Personally there are hundreds of thousands of ways people do D/s dynamics, it seems pretty disingenuous to reduce all that variation in preference down to a couple of genes and then claim that’s all there is to it, clearly that isn’t true.” He’s had this argument with himself and doctors so many times over the years that he could recite his reasoning in his sleep with his mouth taped shut. He didn’t need to have the specifics of how the damn genetics worked; any idiot knew that those genetics bore no relevance on how you chose to express yourself.

Some people argued against that but they were fucking idiots, so pain play and impact play was considerably popular, that didn’t mean everyone liked them and hell, that didn’t mean everyone liked those things for the same reasons either. You could ask a person why they liked what they did and in a room of one hundred people you’d get one hundred different answers, even if they followed similar themes. Which was why Tony was so fucking irritated that people had a hard time grasping how someone could align with something other than their biological orientation. It wasn’t fucking rocket science, _obviously_ at least one person in all the people who have lived and died had to have felt the same way he does.

“Huh. I never really considered a neutral orientation but that kind of fits honestly, there isn’t really a lot that tickles my fancy and it’s caused a lot of relationship problems. I just don’t _get_ most stuff but the only other people who have ever said they felt similar to that are those ridiculous vanilla people. I mean I get not getting a lot of D/s dynamics, but I don’t think they should be put in _jail_ , plus they make the assumption that vanilla relationships will stop what they perceive as abuse, which is absurd. D/s dynamics aren’t what fosters abuse, assholes are what foster abuse,” Agent says, rolling his eyes.

Yeah, which was probably why vanilla groups weren’t taken very seriously, people didn’t much like the outright accusation of being abusive or abused. The idea vanilla movements started with- that not all people wanted to work with D/s dynamics, some people just didn’t feel attracted to them- made sense. The lunacy that happened afterwards was certainly worthy of Agent’s eye roll. A lot of it, he was sure, came from a place of frustration and he got being annoyed with people telling you were wrong for existing in a certain way, but they took it to some extremes. With the aforementioned accusations of abuse, pathologizing orientations, and assumptions that everyone but them should be in jail it was no surprise that they weren’t received well. They tended to be a bunch of sanctimonious pricks.

“You know, for a small group they’re pretty loud,” Tony says. They got a surprising amount of press coverage given that no one took them very seriously.

“People just like to laugh at them, no one actually thinks they’re news worthy. In the office we used to make bets on what ridiculous thing they would come up with next. I won a lot of money guessing right and that’s why I’m Fury’s favorite,” Agent says, puffing out his chest with some stupid and misplaced pride.

“Fury likes you because you’re good at predicting the next stupid thing a person’s going to say? Guy has low standards.” But then if he liked Agent for any reason he had low standards, only Bucky was the exception to that.

“Eat shit, Stark. He likes me because I can easily adopt the mindset of others and think out their next move. It isn’t as easy as Criminal Minds likes to make it look. Now, speaking of, have you heard of this research group?” Agent asks, handing Tony some papers. He takes them and looks them over, frowning.

“The fuck is an A.I.M?” he asks.

“A terrorist organization your business partner seems to have a strong connection to, and he’s been selling them a lot of your tech-” he cuts Agent off.

“And how the hell do I get it back?” he snaps. For fucks _sakes_ Obadiah, so he wasn’t just selling weapons? Tony clenches his jaw; somewhat happy that Obi is currently in jail otherwise he might just kill him himself.

“Well at least I know it’s unlikely that you’re involved in this now,” Agent says, taking the paper back. “JARVIS, mind sending me all video footage of Tony’s reaction to this news?” Agent asks the AI.

“Of course, sir,” the AI responds.

Tony gives the ceiling an offended look, “who’s side are you _on_ , J?”

“Yours, which is why I fully intend on cooperating and proving your innocence. And he _is_ innocent,” JARVIS adds to Agent.

“Your AI is terrifying and I don’t like it,” Agent tells him.

“Shove your opinions on JARVIS up your ass and tell me how the hell to get my tech back from these A.I.M people.”

*

“You know your safe word, right?” Pepper asks her.

Natasha rolls her eyes, “you’re plucking my eyebrows in some strange attempt to establish intimacy, I don’t think I need a safe word for this,” she points out. Pepper glares down at her from behind the couch she was currently standing behind, clearly waiting for her to say the damn safe word. “Fine,” she mumbles, “monkeyslut.”

Pepper sighs, “how did you end up with such a terrible safe word?” she asks.

“I made a bet with Tony and lost, but jokes on him I’ve never used a safe word so there’s no embarrassing myself later,” she says.

“You _what_?” Pepper snaps, “you need to use your safe word if something is making you uncomfortable, Natasha! Please remember this is half the reason we’re even doing this,” she says. Right, because Natasha had a hard time feeling things, or letting herself feel things, so Pepper had taken it upon herself to ensure Natasha’s comfort. The problem with that was that Natasha wasn’t entirely sure what comfort felt like, she’s never had that luxury and her relationship with Pepper has been the closest she’s ever gotten.

Things were fine, at least for the most part, if she was in control but she couldn’t _control_ Pepper, she’s a person with her own life and duties. It took her a long time but eventually she came to the conclusion that she was having such a hard time with relationships because people were unpredictable and she didn’t like it. So now Pepper was trying to ease her into intimate activities, at least so long as she was comfortable with them, to try and fix this problem. Personally Natasha found that Pepper was being overly conscious but she appreciated that Pepper was intent on making her comfortable.

“Okay, but what Dom uses safe words?” she asks. The concept was completely foreign to her; she was always taught that safe words were for subs though in hindsight Ivan wasn’t exactly a reliable source for information.

“One that is uncomfortable with a situation, just like a sub would do,” Pepper counters without pause. Of course she would have a smartass response, she always did.

“Name one,” she counters back. Pepper wasn’t the only smartass here and Phil assured her that her humor was a special brand of funny. She wasn’t entirely sure what she meant by that but she chose to take it as a compliment.

“Tony,” Pepper shoots back fast.

“He doesn’t count!” Natasha protests, earning sharp look from Pepper that takes her a moment to place. “Not because of his biological orientation, I don’t care about that. But the guy tried to put _tuna_ in _meatloaf_ , he’s clearly an abomination.” She liked to call him 626 if he was acting more like an asshole than usual and it took him an embarrassingly long time to catch on to her excellent Lilo and Stitch reference. Her comedy was lost on most people and that made her sad.

“Fine, Wanda used a safe word,” Pepper says, moving on quickly.

Natasha swears under her breath because she had no real idea who that was other than Pepper dated her for a long time. But Wanda didn’t buy her pretty collars from all over the world so Natasha thinks she’s winning. Normally Doms stuck with one collar for their subs but style was important to Pepper so Natasha started picking up pretty collars here and there and bringing them home with her. One time she got stopped in an airport because someone thought she much have a slave ring or something, which led to an embarrassing rescue from Phil Coulson. They were buds after that but only because Natasha owed him for getting the collars back and convincing the airport people that she did not, in fact, have a slave ring. Well, at least not one that wasn’t willing to be there, Phil may have had a little too much fun with that accusation in his process to bail her out.

When she brought home the extra collars, though, Pepper had nearly cried she was so happy with them. Natasha thought she might be offended, some subs would be because they cherished their collars, but Pepper was just happy to have more options than the simple black one Natasha picked up initially. She had no clue what to get so she went with black because that was her go-to color, even if Pepper reminded her regularly that black was not a color. And that she didn’t need to be perpetually prepared to attend a funeral. Natasha thought otherwise, you never know when someone will surprise you and die and she was prepared for the event every day of the week. It was forward thinking, Pepper.

“Fine. I guess some people do that. Can we get to the eyebrow plucking already? I get it, use a safe word if I don’t like you ripping hair off my face.” Pepper gives her a _look_ , one she usually reserved for Tony, so she settles in her spot and leans back on the couch so Pepper could see her eyebrows. This grooming your Dom thing was also completely lost on her but Pepper insisted it was an intimate thing and Natasha was happy to indulge her. It wasn’t a hardship and she was apparently going to get good eyebrows out of it. She didn’t even know eyebrows _mattered_ until Pepper brought it up. She figured having them was enough but she guessed wrong.

Pepper looks down at her for a long moment but eventually starts moving when Natasha raises an eyebrow. She carefully draws out a design, which Natasha thought was overkill, but she lets Pepper work. At leas until she ripped a few hairs out and Natasha pulls her head off that couch at warp speed, “ _ouch_ , what the _hell_ Pep? Are you secretly a sadist or something _ow_.” She rubs her eyebrow while Pepper lets her adjust.

“Are you going to be alright?” Pepper asks and she sounds so gentle that Natasha relaxes some.

“I’m fine, but you could have warned me that that would hurt,” she mumbles before settling back into her seat.

“Natasha, I’m plucking your eyebrows, of course that’s going to hurt,” Pepper says. Well how the hell would she know, she’s never plucked her eyebrows.

“Well now I know I guess.” She eyes Pepper suspiciously for a moment and Pepper leaves her be until she relaxes some.

“Are you okay?” she asks. Natasha finds the question unnecessary but Pepper was treating the question seriously so she did too. She nods, Pepper goes back to plucking, and she goes back to complaining the whole time. “Natasha Romanov, I have seen you come home with _stab wounds_ and to my horror you _stitched the wounds yourself_. You can handle some plucking! If you can’t then use that safe word we’ve been spending so much time arguing about, and if you can then stop complaining,” Pepper tells her before ripping out some more hairs.

“Ow! That hurts you know.” She resists the urge to rub her poor brow because Pepper was currently over grooming the poor thing.

“Yes, I do because I pluck mine too. Now look at your eyebrow, it’s done but I still have to do the other one. If you let me,” she says, handing Natasha a mirror.

She lied about eyebrows not being important, that was a fucking nice brow. It looked like a professional, it probably had a job and a family and shit. This was a responsible eyebrow.

“I can leave you like that if you don’t want me to do the other brow,” Pepper says and she means it too. Natasha is insulted that Pepper would allow her Dom to leave the house looking like this.

“Pepper, this eyebrow is a good eyebrow. Its like a CEO eyebrow, and it’s been in Forbes too, not like it slutty cheap sister to the fucking right. This eyebrow?” Natasha says, pointing to her freshly plucked left brow, “this brow is working tirelessly to support her family and _this_ brow,” she says, pointing at her right brow, “this eyebrow is the family disappointment. She started wearing less and going out more, hanging with some girls I’ve never seen before, she probably steals money and she’s the reason Drake was sad enough to write Hotline Bling. You can’t let me leave the house like this. Unless you really _are_ a sadist and you want to see me in pain, because I can assure you that will happen with a beautiful brow on one side and nature’s turd on the other.”

By the time she’s finished her rant Pepper is doubled over laughing and Natasha smiles, pleased that she drew such a strong reaction out of the usually severe woman. Maybe this ‘groom your Dom’ thing wasn’t so bad after all.

*

Wade stares at the ceiling strapped down onto a table in the most unsexy of ways. He loved bondage before this but this asshole had to come along and take a giant steaming shit on _that_. Fucking dicknugget.

“Hey Wilson. Remember pancakes?” the guy in the next… curtained area because these sick fucks couldn’t even be bothered to give them _rooms_ in this hell hole, asks.

“Hell yeah I remember pancakes, with chocolate chips and bananas,” he says. Peter made the best pancakes and no matter how hard Vanessa and Wade tried they could never recreate them. Usually they ended up abandoning the stupid things to burn and fucking. Peter usually saved them from lighting the house on fire with the food and because he is a good person he’d usually make them the damn pancakes.

“Remember blowjobs. Never been my favorite but my dick has been so neglected here I’d take a handjob from a construction worker, the calluses would add to the experience,” he says. God, he was willing to all but sandpaper his dick, this place was ruining him. Shit, who was he kidding; he was ruined long before he got here.

“Oh man I’d fuck a donut at this point, is that fucked up? Probably. Remember the sky?” his figurative curtain mate asks.

“I’ve always been a night owl honestly but now I miss the sun,” he says.

“The sun was warm. This place is fucking freezing, like death.”

Yeah, Wade remembered the sun on his face too, warming his skin. He used to hate it then but Peter functioned like a normal human so sometimes he had to do stuff during the day. Peter used to roll his eyes when he and Vanessa would crawl out of bed, blinking slowly and avoiding the sun like they were vampires.

“I miss my kids,” his curtain mate whispers.

“I miss my Doms. I took off without telling them where I was going and now I realize how much of a fucking stupid move that was,” he says, blinking back the tears in his eyes. The fuck good would crying do him now? Bucky was right, he was being stupid and now it was too late to turn back. At least Peter is a switch, he could renegotiate his relationship with Vanessa and they wouldn’t have to split or try and find another sub to replace him or something. Even if he did hope they moved on, even if it meant replacing him.

“Me too. They probably think I abandoned them or something thanks to these fucking shitbags,” the guy wheezes out, coughing. God, Wade hoped he didn’t die off; he was all that brought him joy in this shit pit.

“Yeah well my Doms flat out know I ran out on them. I stayed with a friend for a solid week before I ended up here. He tried to talk me out of it too, not coming here, just running. I didn’t want them to see me die and now… now all they have left is me running out on them. I’m a fucking idiot.”

“We both are,” his curtain mate says, at least trying to halfass comfort him. That was sweet, he guessed. That’s when they hear the footfalls and fall silent as Captain Jackass walks in. Guy claimed his name was Francis but Wade knew that was total shit.

“Aww, Wade Wilson _crying_. Finally, I thought you would never break,” he says with a fucking cocky grin on his face. Wade resists the urge to rattle around in his restraints because he couldn’t break out to strangle the guy like he wanted to anyways.

“It’s cute that you think _you_ broke me,” Wade sneers at him, lip curling to bare his teeth.

“Didn’t I?” Francis asks and Wade laughs harshly. No, he didn’t, Wade has been fucked up for so long he didn’t actually remember a time when he _wasn’t_ fucked up. Maybe he was born broken, who knew.

“No, fuckface, you aren’t that special,” he snarls at Francis.

“Watch your mouth,” the man warns, sounding serious.

Wade laughs harshly, “or what? The problem with twenty four hour torture is that you can’t really up your game from there. You’ve got nothing to keep me silent and the only thing I’ve got left to loose is my life and that would be a relief. Feel like indulging a guy?” he asks in a snarky tone.

Francis grins slowly and leans forward like he knew something Wade didn’t. Something has changed. “Oh, see the problem with your current predicament is that you’ve had breaks. As it turns out I _can_ step it up from here, would you like to know how?” he asks, laughing in Wade’s face.

“Not really, no,” Wade says honestly but he covers the true admission with snark to make it sound like he was being an ass instead of a coward.

“Too bad,” Francis says, fake frowning at him. He starts moving shit around and Wade silently prays he dies quick. A.I.M, yeah right, advanced ideas his ass, torture has been around since forever, they didn’t invent being shitty people though they might take the shittiest cake.

“What the hell are you even _doing_ with us?” he asks finally, lost on what the hell all this torture and injecting shit into his body was supposed to even _do_.

“We told you, we’re making you _better_ ,” Francis says, snickering at him.

Wade makes a face, “god, you are so fucking skeezy,” he says as he gets wheeled off into god knows what.


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this is going to be one of the final chapters of this beast, I think I have maybe three or four more chapters planned, maybe less. And maybe, if I feel like it, a final BDSM scene between Bucky/ Tony.

Bucky and Steve sit curled on the couch watching House Hunters because they’re secretly HGTV trash. “Remember the first apartment we got together? The one with the roaches?” Steve says in far too fond of a tone.

“Yeah, mostly because I had to sweep out the tub regularly,” Bucky says. God that apartment was a totally rat hole and with Steve’s health issues they hadn’t lasted long. Then they moved somewhere else and Steve hit a growth spurt, outgrew his health issues, and gained a bunch of weight in muscle.

“That was disgusting, but it was nice to be away from home.” Nice to be with him, Steve means, but neither of them say it. They knew each other so well that they almost didn’t need to speak at all and Bucky really did wonder how Steve could love him the way he did after all that. For a long time they had no space outside of each other, they lived together, went everywhere together, had friends together. They spent so much time together people stared referring to them as SteveandBucky, one word, like they were only one person.

“You ever wonder if we were too close?” he asks after a moment of silence.

Steve frowns, “what do you mean?” Steve knows damn well what he means, he just doesn’t want to say it out loud.

“I mean that we spent way too much time with each other, be honest, did we even _have_ an identity outside of each other before Brock?” he asks. Abuser 101 dictated that Brock made an effort to cut him off from his friends, which only ever half worked because Steve refused to go away. In the end that had ended up being a good thing, at least in that moment, but before and after? He wasn’t so sure. After Brock Bucky had been so suspicious of everyone, even Steve, so he was all but forced to develop his own identity because he learned an unfortunate lesson in putting too much faith in any one person. For a long time he floundered before he found some footing, and therapy, and then he slowly started rediscovering things about himself. Then that whole thing with Steve shook him up all over again and he was shoved straight out of all of his comfort zones and forced to adapt to something new again.

He was far better friends with Phil now, and Natasha invited him to lunch so that was something. Actually she was pretty awesome and she always found a mix of the most hilarious and most horrifying memes to send to everyone. So far Bucky has rediscovered that weird Minion phase that stormed Facebook for an unreasonable amount of time, and those awful rage quit memes. Actually Natasha managed to find the worst of the worst of the memes back in the meme beginning. If he saw one more Sponge Bob meme he would be very, _very_ tempted to throw himself out a window. But then Natasha would call it a fucking rage quit and she’d win so no.

“Oh course we did,” Steve says in an offended tone, drawing Bucky’s attention back to him. “What makes you think we didn’t?”

“Gee, everything? Come on, Steve, we’ve never done _anything_ without the other since we were like seven. Don’t you think we should have our own separate lives outside of each other, because frankly I’ve been enjoying mine,” he says. It isn’t until Steve looks like Bucky just slapped him that he realizes what the implications of that were. “Not… not like that, I still care about you and want you in my life, but I don’t want you to be all I have. And I don’t want that for you either so maybe it’s best that we sort of remain a little separated until we both have a solid footing outside of each other. Go make friends, date, Netflix and chill with yourself,” Bucky says.

Steve looks pained and he got it, he’d miss Steve too, he _has_ missed Steve, but they needed the time. He isn’t totally convinced that Steve is over his creepy pining and Steve was pretty good at not noticing things like that until they all but beat him over the head so. Some time where they spent minimal time together might do them both some good and their relationship would be better for it. Suddenly Steve starts laughing, “did you just tell me to watch a movie and jerk off?” he asks.

For a moment Bucky is horrified but then he makes the connection, “no Steve, I meant Netflix and _actual_ chill. But by all means if you want to jerk off to Netflix be my guest,” he says, putting his hands in the air in mock surrender. It breaks the ice a little, making Bucky’s previous statement slightly less harsh even if the awkwardness is still there a little. They go back to watching T.V and complaining about people claiming _wall color_ was a reason not to buy a house. The bonding isn’t as easy as it used to be but Bucky thinks that maybe that’s a good thing because it means that they’re both rethinking their positions with each other.

*

Tony is sort f freaking out and maybe this wasn’t the best place to do this but he needed to talk to _someone_ and even if Rhodey was staring at Sam’s ass the whole time Tony knew he was there for him. In his defense Sam _did_ have a nice ass. “But is it too soon?” he asks, “what if he like secretly hates me?”

At that Rhodey turns from watching Sam do… something to him, making a face, “why would he hate you? He wouldn’t be with you if he hated you,” he points out.

“Okay but like what if this is some long standing joke to make me make a fool out of myself this whole time?” It was a legit question, okay; there was no need for Rhodey to make those faces.

“Who the hell even _thinks_ stuff like that? Seriously, do you actually think that? Because that’s a little fucked up, man,” Rhodey says, giving him a very serious if confused look.

“Uh, to be honest I thought that was normal until just now when you informed me that this is not, in fact, normal. Doesn’t everyone have a crippling that everyone in their life secretly hates them and gathers like twice a week to talk about how shitty they are but they stick around for kicks?” Rhodey’s face tells him that no, that was obviously not the case.

“That’s pretty fucked up man, you should get that looked at by someone who won’t give up on you in five minutes like everyone else,” Rhodey says and _ouch_ okay. Technically he’s right, every therapist minus Riley _has_ given up on him but still. He didn’t need to lay it out like that.

“That’s a bit harsh,” someone new, Sam, says. He’s giving Rhodey a judge-y look and damnit, time to be a good bro and save his ass.

“Terrible insensitivity to mental health aside, he’s a great person,” Tony says in what he realizes in hindsight is a terrible attempt at making Rhodey look good.

“What do you mean ‘terrible insensitivity to mental health’? When am I terrible about your mental health?” Rhodey asks, giving him a _look._

“Always, you never have been good at realizing that I have issues and then you make really insensitive jokes about it. Its hurtful,” Tony says.

“I do _not_!”

“You just called him fucked up and then implied no one was willing to stick around long enough to help him fix himself, that’s pretty insensitive,” Sam points out.

“That… what, no, that’s just a statistical fact,” Rhodey says.

“In his defense that’s true,” Tony throws in.

“Well don’t defend the behavior, you just said it was hurtful. Is this like a regular thing or…?” Sam asks, raising an eyebrow at them.

“Yes,” Tony says at the same time Rhodey says, “no.”

They look at each other for a moment before Rhodey speaks, “okay you know what, I worry about you sometimes. You whip out some real worrying shit semi-regularly, like the other day when I asked you what you wanted for Christmas and you told me a reason to live. That’s scary man, are you okay?” Rhodey asks and he looks genuinely worried.

Tony is floored for a moment because _what the hell_? “What do you mean you’re worried about me? I find that really weird when you follow that with some tactless joke about how I’ve been through like every therapist in New York and they’ve all given up on me because I’m so fucked up even the people trained to deal with this shit think I’m an unlovable freak. I really don’t see it,” he says in a tone that was maybe a bit too blasé for the situation but this was how he dealt, okay? So it was weird and made no sense but it worked for him.

Rhodey’s face scrunches up, “ _what_? That is not even _close_ to- you make jokes like that all the time, I thought it was some sort of fucked up coping mechanism, don’t look at me like that Sam he told he wanted a _reason to live_ for Christmas. He thought it was the funniest joke he’d ever told, that’s a little fucked up. Anyways, I figured you know what, it’s fucked up but it obviously helps because you do it so I figured I’d like… I don’t know, help you out?” Rhodey says but he sounds unsure and looks even more confused.

They stare at each other for a moment, “so this whole time I thought you were being an insensitive prick you were actually just trying to help me out? Fucking seriously? Well stop it, it’s okay when I make joke about my mental health but when you do it its just insensitive and rude.”

“See, this is why open communication is very important in relationships,” Sam tells them, reminding them that he’s there.

“Oh no, no,” Rhodey says, shaking his head, “we are _not_ together. Absolutely not except that one time in college but that is a time for experimentation so it doesn’t count because we would never work ever.” Sam’s eyes flick back and forth between them and he frowns a little when Tony doesn’t react.

“We’re strictly platonic, no benefits, it’s all good. Plus I’m with someone and sine _this_ one has been useless to me I have a question…”

*

A few months too late the media _finally_ catches wind of their relationship and Bucky finds himself plastered all over everything right next to Tony’s orientation. Thankfully he’s only been mobbed like ten times in the last few days as opposed to Tony’s six times a day but it was still annoying. His facial expression when he was asked about Tony’s orientation was a meme now though and Natasha was having a _blast_ with his scrunched nose and pinched expression. His short, “no, now shut the fuck up about it,” was also now a hit and Tony resolved to train him in media relations.

“Sorry about this,” Tony tells him, running his fingers through his hair. Bucky lifts a shoulder and drops it because there was nothing he could do about it.

“They were bound to find out eventually,” he says. Steve had sent him like seven text message pages of question marks followed by seven pages of exclamation points. Bucky sent back a slant-y face emoji back because what the fuck else was he supposed to say? It took Steve two full hours, and Bucky commended him for waiting that long, before he finally called and asked a flurry of questions.

“I know but people are stalking you now, someone found a Facebook status you made like seven years ago, that’s fucking weird,” Tony says. It wasn’t anything that Tony was unaccustomed to anyways, plus he was half hoping people lost interest.

“Is it that vague one that says ‘it screams’, because people are trying to read really hard into that and I was talking about this really annoying bird that was outside my window at five a.m. that thing stayed there and squawked every damn day for like a month. I was glad when Steve’s cat ate it.” Steve had been so upset to find his cat munching on a dead bird but he had been downright horrified when Bucky did a victory dance.

“Is the matching ‘the screaming stops’ one after the bird got eaten? Because people are weirdly attached to those statuses. I meant to try and prepare you though, this isn’t going to be easy and I don’t really have much choice but to attach a security team to you now. I held off before because discretion and good security on my behalf seemed to keep people far enough away that no one got pictures but now… Now it would be flat out irresponsible for me to not have a security team for you,” Tony says. Yeah, he figured, but he did have Phil and if Wade was still around… well he wasn’t and no one has heard anything from him or even about him. Peter and Vanessa were devastated.

“Fair enough. Better than making me live of legumes,” he says, lamenting about his new diet again. And Tony didn’t even count pizza as a vegetable, which is a goddamn tragedy in Bucky’s opinion.

“First off you have a wide variety of veggies, not just legumes. It’s for your own health and before you starts claiming tacos are a food group they are _not_.” He shuffles around so he can look at Tony and narrows his eyes at him. “Stop looking at me like I slapped you with wet bread, veggies are good for you and they taste good.”

“You were willing to pay six dollars for fucking cauliflower.” He could not believe that, six fucking dollars for some cauliflower. They had spent ten minutes arguing, Bucky looking like a fucking idiot with the Bluetooth, over whether or not he was getting the damn cauliflower. He was not paying six dollars for a _veggie_. It wasn’t even a good veggie and finally Bucky won out by saying he could find it elsewhere for a better price, which was true, but that didn’t mean he was going to go _get_ it. Either way he wasn’t paying six dollars for cauliflower, that’s absurd.

“It’s six dollars, I have no idea why you were freaking out about it. That isn’t even a lot of money,” Tony says.

Bucky snorts, “spoken like a person who’s had money his whole life. Trust me six dollars is a lot if you know how to spend it. Which is not on a fucking _cauliflower_ , FYI. Also if you ever make me go into another health food store ever again I will straight up cry at the prices. You have no idea how much you are over paying. Except for those grapes, those are good.” He is never going back to poor people grapes and he was sad so many people were missing out.

“I just want the best for you,” Tony says earnestly.

“That’s nice, but I’m not paying fifty dollars extra for a fucking half a broccoli stalk. I’ve been eating non-organic foods my whole life and I haven’t grown a breast on my ass, I can do it for the rest of my life too,” Bucky says stubbornly.

Tony smiles down at him, grin wide and bright, lighting up all his facial features. “Give me a second,” he says and he runs off, ditching Bucky’s head on the couch. He makes sure to grumble about it when Tony comes back holding something. “We didn’t really cover it much but I was in the lab the other day and it just sort of _happened_ and here,” Tony says, shoving something that thankfully was not a baby at him. God know what Tony did in his lab and if he accidentally made a _child_ that was going to be a problem.

Instead what Bucky gets is a piece of metal and he frowns at it for a moment before he realizes what he’s holding. “I… are you serious?” he asks, looking up at Tony with wide eyes.

“Duh, I wouldn’t have given it to you otherwise, or made it for that matter,” Tony says.

“You _made_ this? Like yourself?” Tony nods and Bucky examines the collar in his hand. It was simple but the red metal gleamed prettily, accented with two gold slanted lines in the front. The inside of the collar is soft black velvet that makes the red and gold that much brighter, “this is gorgeous,” he says honestly. He couldn’t believe Tony _made_ it himself. He couldn’t believe that he somehow ended up one of those subs with a custom made collar, and better yet it was made by his Dom and not some random person with vague instructions.

“Yeah?” Tony asks, blowing out a breath Bucky didn’t realize he was holding. Instead of answering he slides to his knees at Tony’s feet, offering the collar to him. Tony takes in a sharp breath, “shit, I don’t know what I did in a past life but I must have like cured the plague or something because I must have done _something_ damn significant to get a sub as amazing as you,” he says, gently pulling the collar from Bucky’s hand. He smiles as Tony secures the collar around his neck.


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for mentions of torture, murder, and guns. Other than that I think that's it!
> 
> This is the second last chapter, FYI. The last one will hopefully be up soon (I'm hoping tomorrow). I sorted out my calendar for the fall and I have _so many_ things due holy shit. Hence me polishing off this sucker before I get busy.

“You’re a horrible wingman, instead of getting a date with Sam I got fucking therapy session to talk about our relationship issues,” Rhodey tells him.

Tony doesn’t feel bad whatsoever, “hey, you never know, you might like it,” he says. Rhodey will absolutely not like therapy and if Tony was glad to see him suffer a little he wasn’t going to say anything about it. He was more than content to sit back and relax as Rhodey went through a long list of questions he had no interest in answering only to have his entire life reduced to daddy issues.

“I will like therapy as much as I like military kink,” Rhodey tells him.

“So you’ll love it,” Tony jokes, getting _the_ most hilariously offended look from Rhodey. “Oh relax, maybe it’ll lead to a date.”

“You know what screams sexy? Date the patient. Clearly that is never going to happen.”

“Some people are into that sort of thing,” Tony says. He’s learned that if something exists there is a kink community around it and the sexy nurse thing was popular enough that he figured it’d carry over to mental health too.

“And I doubt they doubt they carry that to work with them, and that’s _if_ they’re even in the profession. I am not dating my therapist, that is just not for me and this is all _your_ fault for being a terrible wingman.” It isn’t fault at all and Rhodey knows it but the man looks so indignant about the whole thing that the best Tony could do is laugh at him. He gets an irritated look for his efforts but it’s so worth it.

“Aww come on, being in the profession doesn’t mean anything. Look at how many people think a military kink is a good reason to join up. Besides, I’m like eighty percent sure I have technology kink,” he says.

Rhodey makes a face like he swallowed an entire lemon, “ _what_? Dude, that is not right.”

“Would Sam approve of that statement?” he asks, getting an exaggerated eye roll. “Also don’t fucking kink shame me, your ass joined the military because of military kink, the fact that you hate it now is irrelevant. Also Bucky’s arm is beautiful okay and I really want to punch whichever asshat made him so self-conscious about it. I have _ideas_ and thanks to some asshole I’ll never get to try them,” he says, pouting.

When Bucky thought he was looking for too long at the arm he shifted around uncomfortably, even if Tony wasn’t actually looking. It was a shame because if it didn’t make Bucky so uncomfortable he’d probably stare at all day, it was a beautiful piece of machinery. If he wouldn’t have some serious suspicion cast on him thanks to Obi and his actions he’d go and visit Vankov to talk about it.

“You are _depraved_ ,” Rhodey tells him. Tony shrugs, easily accepting his fate.

*

Bucky’s trying to organize boxes of something and he doesn’t think too hard about it. He knows Weasel is into all kinds of illegal shit and he really hoped the media didn’t get ahold of this. So far Phil had easily organized security around him, grinning at Tony the whole time like he was somehow winning some sort of challenge, and they were more than good at their jobs. He hasn’t seen hide nor hair of a reporter in three days and he really did wonder how they did it.

“Psst,” someone hisses, interrupting his work. Bucky straightens up and frowns, looking around but he doesn’t see anything so he goes back to his work. “Oh for fucks sakes, Weasel, over here,” the person hisses again and this time Bucky knew he wasn’t hearing shit. He looks over the room again and finds nothing of note.

“Uh… hello?” he asks to the empty room feeling a bit like an idiot.

“Fuck sakes of course you aren’t Weasel, get you ass over here Barnes, not over there where the fuck are you even going, yeah, over here.” Bucky follows the voice and he _swears_ … but no, it couldn’t possibly be…

It isn’t lost on him that he’s basically in a horror movie right now, walking through the dark back room towards a voice that sounded like an old friend in a shitty neighborhood in an even shitter (sometimes literally) bar. When he gets to the doorway the person in it jumps out, yelling, “boo!” at him. Bucky cannot be blamed for taking a swing at his unknown would-be assailant and thankfully for them they’re fast enough to duck fast otherwise they would have been eating metal arm. “Jesus, Bucky! I can’t believe you tried to punch me!” The guy’s hood falls back and…

“What the fuck happened to you?” is the first thing out of his mouth and in hindsight that was pretty rude. He didn’t like when people drew unwanted attention to his arm, he shouldn’t have drawn attention to Wade’s skin. It had been pretty shocking though, the change, and Bucky wanted to know how the hell that

“What the fuck happened to _you_?” Wade counters, eyes drawn down towards Bucky’s neck. He frowns for a moment before he realizes what Wade is staring at, “seriously man? I leave for like a month and a bit and you get _collared_. That’s nice though,” he says.

Bucky perks up, “thanks! Tony made it. But anyways, where _were_ you? Vanessa and Peter are worried about you.” They were both still hoping that Wade would come back and Bucky supposed they got their wish now.

“Yeah, look, where’s Weasel?” Wade asks, neatly evading the subject.

“Right here and _shit_ you are fucking ugly. I mean you weren’t cute before but fuck, now you are _haunting_ ,” Weasel says, coming up behind Bucky.

Wade nods, “thank you.”

“You are hard to look at.”

“Like a testicle with teeth,” Wade says.

“You look like Freddy Kruger facefucked a topographical map of Utah,” Weasel says, shuddering.

“Yeah, cool, he looks like he took an acid bath, can we get to the part of where the fuck you went and how the hell you survived… whatever. Because all things considered, you look pretty good,” Bucky points out.

Weasel frowns at him, “do you have eyes? He looks like an avocado had sex with an older avocado. Like hate sex too, like they hate each other so bad fucking each other to death is all they’ve got left and _boy_ have they gone at it. You look like a horror movie villain, or like a deep fried cock.”

Wade nods solemnly, “my face could give children nightmares,” he agrees.

“Fuck kids, you’re so fucked up looking you’ll be haunting _my_ dreams at night.” The two continue on, insulting Wade’s now heavily scarred skin. He didn’t even have eyebrows anymore and Bucky didn’t know how to feel about that. Guess Wade is getting fake eyebrows for Christmas. Finally the two run out of insults and Weasel gets to the goddamn point, “seriously though man, you might look like one nasty tater tot but like where _were_ you. You can’t just run off for a month and come back looking like a melted Ken doll and expect us to be totally cool with this.”

“I can and I will. I need some guns; I’ve got an asshole to kill for ruining my face. I used to look just like Ryan Reynolds and now I’m lucky if I look like Ryan Reynolds’ puckered asshole and Francis is gunna fucking pay for making me look like a bad eighties horror prop,” Wade says with meaning.

Weasel probably would have responded but Bucky speaks before he gets the chance. “I’m sorry, did I just hear this right. You’re planning to kill a man because you’re ugly?”

“Yeah, pretty much. I mean also because of the twenty-four hour torture, but mostly because I look like something you’d find on an episode of CSI in a dumpster and who the fuck is going to want anything to do with me _now_? I liked my sex life damnit, and you think my _face_ looks bad you do _not_ want to take a look at the junk that I’ve got in this trunk,” Wade says, dead serious.

“To be fair you’d have to have rock bottom standards to even consider the junk in your trunk before, but now you need to be black out drunk so you don’t have any memories of it the next day. But I’m pretty sure Vanessa and Peter are pretty desperate by now, they probably won’t care that you look like an eighty year old soggy inside out vagina. I mean they’re gunna need a good relationship with Jack to do the deed but hey, we all make sacrifices for the ones we love,” Weasel says. It occurs to Bucky that this is his version of an inspiring speech, and in true Wade fashion he ruins it in like two seconds.

“Aww, that’s so sweet. Get the fucking guns, Weasel.”

“Um, what do you want?” Weasel asks, clearly stalling for time.

“All the fucking guns!” Wade yells, “look at me face, _look at it_!”

“I’d actually rather not, I wanna sleep tonight. Just let me sort my shit out and Jesus, man, go get yourself a drink, you’re wound tight. And while you’re at it get Bucky and I something too, we’re gunna need to drink this out of our brains,” Weasel says, shooing Wade off. He goes, thankfully, because if he didn’t whatever Weasel was planning would have been screwed.

“What the hell are you gunna do?” Bucky asks. He had to have _some_ plan to keep Wade from doing something stupid.

“I’m not doing anything, you’re going to call Vanessa and Peter and I’m going to keep him distracted. I know the ‘let’s lie to him for his own good!’ thing is kind of shitty, but lying to Vanessa and Peter about seeing Wade is worse so like lesser of two evils. Plus he can still go kill that guy; they just know he’s alive first so I mean we’re not even interrupting his plans that much. So here,” Weasel says, handing off his cell to Bucky. He didn’t think too hard about what that white shit all over it was, he just sort of takes it and makes a promise to himself to bleach his first layer of skin off later.

Wade chooses then to walk back in and Bucky slips Weasel’s phone into his back pocket smoothly, Wade doesn’t even notice. Weasel spies the drinks he brought and makes a face, “the fuck do we look like? Twenty something year old girls? We’re gunna need more than a double shot to forget that ugly mug, wait, don’t take them away I still want them,” Weasel says, calling Wade back when he rolls his eyes and goes to walk off. He takes the shots and shoos Wade off to make something stronger, making up some stupid excuse about comforting Bucky when Wade asks why he was still standing in the same spot.

Bucky gives a short and choppy agreement about being traumatized, nodding along stupidly until Wade leaves. “You’re the worst trauma victim _ever_ , mostly because you actually _are_ a trauma victim and you can’t even play one well. Now get that phone out and call before he comes back,” Weasel tells him, waving an arm around.

“What? Now? What am I supposed to say? And what the hell is on your phone? Am I going to get a disease?” he asks, flying into panic mode quick.

“Jesus Christ, here,” Weasel says, shoving one of the shot glasses at him. Bucky takes it gratefully and upends it into his mouth, quickly snatching the second glass out of Weasel’s grip and drinking that too, ignoring Weasel’s weak protest.

“Okay,” he whispers, mouth burning from the whisky that was in the shots. He finds Vanessa in Weasel’s contacts and hits call, holding the phone up to his ear, hoping that he wouldn’t loose his hearing when he bleached that clean too.

“Hello?” Vanessa answers and Bucky jumps, voice sticking in his throat. Weasel starts waving his hands around and Bucky makes a thin squeaking noise in place of actual words. Weasel rolls his eyes and snatches the phone just as Vanessa asks if Weasel is okay. “I’m fine, that was Bucky and I guess he doesn’t know how to work phones. Anyways you need to get to the bar about ten minutes ago. Who cares why, just get Peter and get here,” Weasel tells her, hanging up. “I’m glad I didn’t hire you to be my secretary because you are useless with a phone. Now help me out,” he says.

Wade wanders back in to find them both head first in boxes not suspecting anything and Bucky downs the new drink Wade brought to help calm his nerves.

By the time the shots and the extra drink kicks in he’s pretty buzzed, reminding him just how long it’s been since he drank last. Working with alcohol made it particularly unappealing but now he remembered why people did this. The light float-y feeling was nice and it made him feel less guilty for lying to Wade even if it was only by omission.

Weasel has pulled a stupid number of guns out of some very strange places by the time Bucky hears the door open and thanks his lucky stars that he wasn’t going to have to live with being an accomplice to murder. Wade turns around to face the noise, unintentionally giving himself away so Bucky and Weasel didn’t have to.

For a moment all Peter and Vanessa do is stare in shock, Wade too, until Vanessa finally moves. “You _asshole_!” she yells, stalking forward faster than Bucky could have in heels that high, “I can’t believe you _left_ us!” She stops in front of him, glaring him down but Wade is looking sheepishly at the ground. “And what the hell happened to your face?”

“You should see his dick,” Weasel throws in entirely unhelpfully.

“Fuck you Weasel,” Vanessa and Wade snap in sync. Weasel lifts his hands in surrender and takes a step back.

“Why are there so many guns?” Peter asks, drawing the attention to himself, “ _Wade_ ,” he prompts, giving Wade a stern look when he doesn’t answer right away.

“I was maybe gunna kill the guy the guy that made me ugly,” Wade mumbles at the ground.

“ _What_ did we say about murder?” Peter asks sternly.

“We don’t kill people,” Wade says, eyes still on the ground.

“ _You_ don’t kill people, but I’ll murder the asshole who did that to you,” Vanessa says turning towards the nearest gun.

Weasel jumps in front of it, “yeah, I’m going to have to ask you to back away from the fire arms unless you’ve had training. I don’t really want you to accidentally shoot me,” he says and glances over to Bucky, “or Bucky I guess. It would suck to have to hire a new bartender who is willing to ignore all the illegal shit I do. It’s hard to find good help.” Bucky snorts because that was probably the bravest thing he’s ever seen Weasel do and it was probably abut as brave as he’d ever get. Weasel has a high sense of self-preservation and he wasn’t much intent on playing hero.

“What _happened_?” Peter asks when Vanessa takes a step forward looking ready to fight Weasel for the gun. Bucky would dive under something but everything was probably explosive so he wouldn’t really be waving himself. He really hoped Weasel wasn’t stupid enough to leave those things loaded.

“Mostly torture and boredom,” Wade says easily, like that was a totally normal thing to say.

“Oh my _god_. I’d ask if you’re ok but you’re obviously not so come home Wade, and stop inching towards that gun,” Peter says, scolding him towards the end there.

“I’m hideous and I want revenge!” Wade says in protest.

Vanessa, thankfully, stops staring down Weasel at this point and both Weasel and Bucky relax a little. “You know what, I don’t care. I might have to take a couple of shots and a Valium but at the end of the day you have a face I’d be happy to sit on,” she says meaningfully.

Bucky snorts, “yeah, because all that scar tissue made his nose bigger than his dick,” he mumbles.

Weasel lets out a loud noise Bucky _thinks_ is a laugh and doubles over, clutching his stomach. Peter gasps in offense and hurries over to Wade, petting his back, “don’t listen to him, that’s not true.” Vanessa joins in on the petting, murmuring her own words of encouragement. Wade relaxes quite a bit, clearly in need of some love.

*

Phil adjusts the aviators on his face, pleasant smile fixed in place. He knew the expression drove Stark nuts and he wasn’t the only one, which was the point. “So you’ve checked it out?” Nick asks, brow over his good eye jumping up in question.

“Yeah and he’s harmless. Tests indicate that whatever happened to him it boosted his immune system into overdrive, which would have killed him if not for the cancer. In an ironic twist of events Wade Wilson’s quickly mutating and spreading cancer is actually saving his life,” he says. That certainly wasn’t what he expected and probably not what Wilson expected either.

Nick nods, taking a small sip of his tea. Phil would have taken him more of a black coffee kind of guy but he is actually far more of a tea snob like himself. They swapped brands and loose-leaf teas often now that they were in regular contact again, much to the annoyance of the rest of the agency. According to one bright eyed bushy tailed Sharon Carter, who Phil had to admit was very good at her job, Nicky never shut up about him. That was a nice confidence booster plus he got to lord it over everyone but Hill, who is Nick’s other favorite and now second in command. People could only _dream_ of her security clearance level, hell, most people only ever dreamed of _his_ security clearance level.

“So you didn’t detect anything… else?” he asks vaguely but they both know what he means.

“Not presently no. I’ll keep you updated,” he says, taking a drink of his own tea. He certainly hoped that Wilson only ended up some sort of genetic anomaly given the precarious state of individuals with… abilities. The first problem being that no one knew about them but the government and that didn’t always work in their favor.

“Any idea on how A.I.M achieved the cure for cancer?” Nick asks.

“Oh, it’s no cure, Wilson has several genetic anomalies that made their ‘treatment’ successful. But no, I’m not certain _how_ this all happened. I’m a spy, Nick, not a scientist,” he reminds him. Stark had been relatively unhelpful in the situation though he was happily backtracking A.I.M’s tech so he could get his back.

His comment earns him a snort and an eye roll from Nick. “I know Phil. Speaking of spies though, your Clint is something,” he says.

Phil perks up, “oh, isn’t he? How is he doing?” The last thing he expected was for Clint to end up in S.H.I.E.L.D with him but they had ended up in some busy coffee shop while Nick and Phil went over some information. Clint obviously had no idea what most of the mundane chitchat meant though Phil figured that Clint would have picked up they were speaking entirely in code. The man wasn’t stupid. He was, however, quite bored after a half an hour of sitting there while not contributing anything. So he took his empty coffee cup, leaned back in his chair to balance precariously on the back two legs and let the coffee cup fly. It went clear across the store and over the head of the woman standing in front of the trashcan, landing in the trash. After repeating this with Nick and Phil’s empty cups Nick was impressed.

Nick asked if his aim was always that good and Clint shrugged and told him he was better with a bow but yeah, he never missed. Which Phil knew already, no matter how impossible the shot Clint _always_ made it. The bow thing was new and he also learned that Clint grew up in a _circus_ and he used to shoot apples off his brother’s head. That was a level of trust Phil had in exactly no one.

“He’s a cheeky asshole. Your assessment was spot on though; he’s an expert marksman, and an extremely talented problem solver. What your report left out was that he’s the laziest human being I have ever met and his talent stems from always wanting to take the path of least resistance. It makes him valuable, though, because he isn’t looking to show off or impress, he just wants to get the task done in the quickest, most efficient way possible so he can go nap. And he does it right the first time too, that alone is enough to make me want him on my side,” Nicky says. Phil grins because of course Clint would do well, he knew he would. He’s never met anyone who could use their resources and environment to their advantage like Clint could all in the name of not liking to move.

“Just wait until you ask him to get information, he’s always so intent on wanting to not do that again that he comes back with far more than what you needed to begin with and he has a very good memory. He’d make a great spy, and you were thinking of giving me a team again,” he says, raising his eyebrows. “While I’m at it I call dibs on Romanov, if you have her play for Ward’s team I am not going to be happy.”

“Actually I was going to give you Ward’s team, Ward included but fine. I’ll throw Romanov in too, if she’s happy to go. I do not want to piss that woman off. About Clint though, you sure you want you Dom working under you? might cause relationship problems,” Nick says.

“Never did with us,” Phil points out though they were more equals at work rather than Nick working under him.

“Not everyone can make separations that easy and I’m not looking to lose one of my best spies because of home life issues again.”

It was fair, Phil supposed, but not a necessary worry. “Clint makes separations easily enough, he’s too lazy to put up much of a fuss. If he has a problem he’ll state it and expect to come up with and employ a solution to said problem. Plus the banter will be _excellent_ with Romanov there. They’ll love each other and I love the agents making the job interesting if I’m not the one in the field.” He’d be in some other location directing the team, which wasn’t his favorite job but it was a prestigious job so he’d take it and hoped something blew up. Nick used to joke that no matter how simple the mission Phil Coulson _always_ made sure something exploded and it was true. Things were more interesting with explosions though.

Nick snorts, “I always forget how much of an adrenaline junkie you are. Your Clint know about that?” he asks.

“He’ll figure it out soon enough. I used to experiment with laundry soaps but then the concoctions made Clint itchy to I switched to dish soaps.” It was his version of keeping things interesting for himself. He’d change furniture around a lot too; experiment with his ties and suits. In hindsight it was pretty clear where Clint got the impression that he was content, happy even, but bored as hell. It was hard going from keeping international secrets so secret that even most of the world governments didn’t know about those secrets to keeping house. Sweeping was nowhere near as interesting as skydiving over Bolivia to extract a USB with encrypted information about people with varying abilities. Experimenting with soaps and furniture never did cut it for him.

“Very exciting,” Nick says dryly, “this poor bastard is in for one hell of a shock when you inevitably blow something up.”


	22. Chapter 22

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I was gunna write another BDSM scene but then I lied to myself so here this is, the final and fluffy lil chapter that is the end.

“My favorite thing about your newfound fame is all the memes I can make of you,” Natasha tells him, grinning.

Bucky groans, “ _you’re_ the one making all those ridiculous memes of me?”

“Okay but that one where you respond to everything with ‘yikes’ is hilarious,” Tony says. Bucky sighs and accepts that now people thought he was the funniest thing ever. He wasn’t, not at all, and his ‘yikes’ response was to some reporter who thought ‘well aren’t you worried Tony isn’t a real Dom?’ was a good think to ask. Honestly there were some situations, he felt, that one could only respond to with ‘yikes’.

“Personally I like the more evolved single ‘yike’ better,” Sam says, grinning. Rhodey nods along with him and Bucky resigns himself to a life on the run in the pursuit of friends who liked better memes.

“That is true, the single yike evolution is definitely better than it’s original ‘yikes’. Personally I like that ridiculous picture of him with a backwards hat on and a shirt that says ‘suns out guns out’ because he wore it unironically and thought it was acceptable,” Natasha says, snickering.

“That used to be Steve’s, give me a break. I don’t even go to the gym, or like working out, or even looking at people work out,” he says, but then he remembers that time he was watching Tony do all that heavy lifting in the lab and _technically_ it wasn’t working out but still. “Okay so that last bit is a little bit of a lie but still, Steve’s the one with the bad fashion, I just stole it.”

Tony squints at him, “you wear Steve’s clothes?”

“I’d wear yours if you weren’t six inches shorter and three sizes smaller. Plus I stole that years ago, the hat too. I don’t know why Steve ever thought he could pull off the frat boy look,” Bucky says honestly. He looked like a moron, a lovable moron, but still.

“Buddy, I hate to break it to you but you don’t do the frat boy look much better,” Sam tells him, eyebrow raised. Bucky is unsure if he takes a drink of the tea he had to his left as some sort of obscure meme reference or if he genuinely wanted the tea. He hazards a glance at Natasha, who seemed just as unsure about Sam’s maybe meme reference so he figures he’ll leave it. He still couldn’t believe Rhodey somehow managed to score a date with the guy, post therapy obviously. He’s been sent off to Riley too and he must make some good money from Sam’s referrals. It helped that the two were apparently very good friends.

“I thought he looked cute, even if I’m so planning on burning that shirt now,” Tony says. Bucky rolls his eyes at Tony’s jealousy, mostly because nothing would come of it other than some disdainful looks and maybe an annoyed grunt or two.

“You’re biased and also wrong,” Rhodey tells him.

“It was Sunday, no one dresses up on Sundays,” he says.

“Except everyone who goes to church,” Sam points out, ruining his life.

*

Bucky is trying, and honestly mostly failing to read his damn textbook. First off why he thought going back to school was a good plan he had no clue, second, if he had to read one more god damn word about World War Two he was going to throw himself and his text out the nearest window. Technically it was Tony’s idea and he had to admit that fulfilling his passion for history sounded like a good plan until he was stuck in class with seventeen year olds, no offense to the children. But they all looked twelve and they hadn’t gotten past the drinking phase yet so group projects were bound to be hell. Thankfully Bob, another classmate, had the same idea so they sort of ended up becoming sort-of friends.

His phone buzzes and he all but jumps on it, finding a text from Steve.

_Remember me in HS?_

_Fuck I was annoying_

_How did I have friends?_

Bucky snorts, shaking his head.

_You didn’t_

_Only I was willing to put up with u_

_You were too Small, Angry, and Ready to Fight tm_

It didn’t matter how low his chances of winning were, Steve Would Fight, and usually lose unless Bucky rescued his dumb ass. People pretty quickly learned to just leave Steve be so he could be an angry fifteen-year-old lil floof on his own. It got better in senior year when he calmed the hell down though he was still ready to fight at all times, just not so much physically.

_What do those tm things mean?_

_Also fuck u_

_I was also your only friend_

_Loser_

Oh as _if_. He had so many friends, well, people he talked to. He’d never speak to them now in part because they’d probably be wigged out by the ‘is a sub’ thing given that they all knew about his bio orientation. Boy had he been surprised when he had blurted that out to Tony one day, figuring it was a damn miracle someone hadn’t found out about it yet and Tony shrugged, handing him a bowl of cereal with instructions to eat it. The media, he was told, got ahold of that a long time ago but there was a lot Tony could do in terms of what did and didn’t get printed. Bucky had no idea that a person could even _have_ that kind of power but he wasn’t complaining, he got enough criticism for existing without that too. Though he was still somewhat surprised at least one person from his past hadn’t said anything.

_Fuck u back_

_Also if u don’t know what the tms mean ur too old_

_Fuckin geezer_

He and Steve, at least, were on better terms even if he and Sharon were still trying like hell to avoid each other and Sharon was currently acting as his bodyguard. Sometimes he invited Steve to lunch when she was on duty just to watch them aggressively avoid eye contact. One of these days he’d manage to throw Peggy in the mix too just to see what happened.

_We’re the same age_

_Wtf_

_Tell me what they mean_

_I’ll give you a cookie_

Bucky considers texting back that Tony had better cookies but then he remembers his shitty ass diet of legumes and a slow death and gives Steve a detailed explanation so he got that damn cookie. Now to smuggle it into his mouth without someone ratting him out for cheating… maybe Phil would help, he and Tony didn’t much like each other.

“What are you smiling about? You’re supposed to be studying and I _know_ you’re not smiling at any of the content involved in World War Two,” Tony says, sliding up behind him and pressing his hands into Bucky’s shoulders, gently massaging the muscle there. He’s careful to stay mostly away from the metal arm and Bucky is thankful for it.

“Steve doesn’t know that that trademark meme is, which means he’s clearly old and not hip with the kids anymore,” Bucky says.

“God, you should hear the marketing ideas for targeting millennials if you think that’s bad. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so embarrassed for another human as I have when listening to marketing strategies. It’s like they’re trying to market to aliens or something, like guys, the phone does cool shit and is durable, we don’t need emojis to sell it. You don’t even use them right, and _god_ , you should have seen their faces when I told them there’s a _right_ way to use emojis.” Tony shakes his head, looking properly embarrassed for his marketing team. Yeah, Bucky too. And technically he was too old to use them right so the fact that _he_ was embarrassed was telling.

“Sounds like more fun than my studying to be honest,” Bucky says.

“It isn’t, I can assure you it isn’t. I hate the marketing team, and I hate the Board, and basically everyone else except the R&D people. They’re awesome and they make cool stuff and we blow things up together,” Tony says.

“Then you should get along with Phil better, he apparently blows things up all the time. Clint has fallen in love in all sorts of new ways since this spy business.” The absurd amount of time bragging about all things Phil Coulson was both endearing and annoying as hell but Phil liked the praise. The guy basically _lived_ off of it, at least if he liked and respected the person. If not than they got one of those slightly wrinkled nose but still smiling looks he was so fond of doling out to people he disliked.

“Fuck Agent, he’s a stuck up asshat. But you need a break so crawl out of your study hole and get to the bedroom,” Tony tells him.

Bucky sighs and leans back against Tony, “I would _love_ to, trust me, but I can’t take a break right now. I have too many things I have to jam into my brain,” he says, glaring at his text book in distaste.

“JARVIS told me that ten minutes ago you Googled ‘is history a real word?’ so I think you need a break. You still have a day before your first mid term and good study strategy means you take breaks. I have seven PhDs, I’m an expert in school, trust me. To the bedroom,” Tony instructs. Bucky could press his point and probably win but he was still unsure if history was a real word or if Google lied when it told him that history had an actual definition.

So he picks himself up and drags his ass to the bedroom so he could flop on Tony’s glorious bed. The fact that he almost falls asleep on the spot indicates how tired he is and he resists the urge to play Tony’s voice saying ‘I told you so’ in his head. “So what’re we doing?” he mumbles into the pillow.

“Nothing too strenuous for you, take off your shirt, all you have to do is relax,” Tony tells him. Bucky’s tempted to make a snarky comment about creepy pornos starting with the same line but he’s too tired. He follows Tony’s instructions instead, stripping off his shirt and going back to lazing around.

By the time Tony comes back to him he’s almost drifted off again but Tony making a dip in the mattress jostles him enough to keep awake. “Told you that you needed a break,” Tony tells him.

“Jerk,” Bucky mumbles as Tony runs a hand up his side, gently settling himself on Bucky’s back, straddling him.

“Shush and enjoy,” Tony says. It isn’t difficult, Bucky had no fucking clue where Tony learned how to massage people but if he ever found out he was going to shake the hands of everyone there. He relaxes easily under Tony’s touch and history starts to sound a little more real again, thankfully, because his entire major being fake would really suck.

Tony shifts some and Bucky hears the familiar click of a marker cap being removed, “what’re drawing?” he asks, curious.

“No clue, to be honest,” Tony says. Bucky tries to pay attention to the designs but he catches numbers and fuck that, he couldn’t do math ever let alone tired. He idly wonders what Tony is up to but he leaves it alone, at least until he recognizes the pattern Tony is drawing on his back. “Are drawing dicks on me?” he asks, half enthused half offended.

“Uh, schematics for dildos, actually,” Tony says. Bucky cracks an eye open to look at him over his shoulder and arches an eyebrow. “Yeah, I’m drawing dicks on you,” Tony admits. For a moment he doesn’t react, but then the thought sinks in and he bursts out laughing.

**Author's Note:**

> [My writing Tumblr](https://tenspencerriedplease.tumblr.com/)


End file.
